Table of Contents WALLS OF ICE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 CHAPTER 16 CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 18 CHAPTER 19 CHAPTER 20 CHAPTER 21 CHAPTER 22 CHAPTER 23 CHAPTER 24 CHAPTER 25 CHAPTER 26 Excerpt from Into the Fire Excerpt from The Promise of Kierna'Rhoan ABOUT THE AUTHOR Publisher info: WALLS OF ICE Norma McPhee Book II in the Forces of Nurture Series This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2004 Walls of Ice Artwork copyright © 2003 Duncan Long Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data McPhee, Norma, 1968- Walls of ice [electronic resource] / Norma McPhee. ISBN 1-55316-122-X 1. Title. PS8575.P437W34 2003 C813'.6 C2003-904988-4 Dedication To Nicole, brainstormer extraordinaire, Tanya, who just listened, and Linnea, whose work never fails to inspire me. CHAPTER 1 ========= Jannia clawed, kicked and thrashed her way toward consciousness, struggling frantically to escape the nightmare's clutching, grabbing hands. Blankets twisted around her legs, her body. Tight and smothering, imprisoning her like a madman's arms. She struggled desperately to free herself, gasping for air, fighting for enough breath to scream. The blanket came loose all at once, propelled by a desperate kick that sent it tumbling off the bed, freeing Jannia-but leaving her exposed and vulnerable and trembling like a leaf in an earthquake. She seized her pillow in a white-knuckled grip and clutched it against her belly, whispering a desperate litany."Gone. He's gone. He's dead. He can't touch you." Slowly, Jannia forced her ragged breath and shuddering limbs under some semblance of control. Satisfied that she was safely awake now, she braced herself to assess the damage. The sheets were twisted half off the bed, and her nightgown was soaked with what she fervently hoped was only sweat. The pillow she clutched against her stomach bled translucent blue fluff from a fresh tear along one seam. Gandes had been dead almost a year now. Dead at Jannia's own hand, though Kerra Telsier had wanted to take him alive. Tostudy the Kethrian pheromonal addiction that had driven him violently, dangerously insane with need for the one woman whose pheromone signature was permanently imprinted on his brain. Vaialora Kondi. Jannia's partner, friend, mother-figure. Gandes's captive, destined for a lifetime of sexual servitude once Gandes was finished torturing and killing all her friends. Yeah, Kerra had wanted to study the bastard, to learn how his twisted brain worked. To cure him if she could. Jannia hadn't wanted him cured. She'd wanted him dead. And she'd gotten her wish, nearly killing herself in the process. She should be able to put it all behind her now. Why couldn't she? She'd had more bad dreams over the past year than she'd had at any other time since the-to call it "rape" didn't begin to touch on the brutal reality. The nerves in her synthorg eye spasmed painfully at the memory. Jannia glanced at the chronometer beside her bed and cursed. She'd overslept. Worn out from too many sleepless nights, she'd given in to the nagging of her friends and taken something to help her rest. Just this once. She should have stuck to her resolve. Jannia rolled out of bed and slunk into the sanitory. Five minutes later she emerged, cleaner but far from refreshed, and went to the meal processor in the hopes of finding something to tempt her non-existent appetite. Just so she could honestly tell certain busybody friends that yes, she'd eaten. The announcer light on Jannia's apartment door flashed silently and insistently.Speaking of busybody friends... She punched the reply key. "I know, I know. Tell Kerra I'll be there in a few minutes." "Thisis Kerra." "Oh." Jannia keyed the door open, admitting some sort of sapphire-blue, satin-and-lace contraption with a short blonde woman trapped inside it. The wedding dress. The one she was supposed to help Kerra get into.Oops. "I'm sorry. I finally let Vaia talk me into-" Kerra held up a staying hand. "It's okay. Aden dressed me, in fierce defiance of untold centuries of superstition. Now he'll know how to proceed when heun dresses me later." Her vivid blue eyes glittered with sensual anticipation. Jannia looked away. Part of her found Kerra's steadfast refusal to coddle her discomfort with sexual matters refreshing. But that didn't make the said discomfort any less. Note to self-don't start any more friendships by encouraging the woman in question to seduce one of your friends. Sets damned annoying precedents. Kerra moved toward the bed as if to sit on it, but stopped when she noted its condition. "Rough night?" "No worse than usual." Kerra raised a knowing eyebrow. "No better, either, from the looks of it. Want to talk?" "No. I want to get ready. Your wedding-" "Cannot proceed without me. We have time. More time than we're likely to get later. I've been talking to Vaia. I know you've been avoiding her ever since you decided to buy theLion-sorry, theDagger-from Aden and strike out on your own." "I'm notavoiding her." "Like hell you're not. And have you taken even five minutes to talk to Aden since you got here? He was looking forward to seeing you. He says he understands, that he knows you have things to work through, but-" Jannia shrugged. "He's right. I do have things to work through." "And you have friends who'd really like to help with that, if you'd let them. They care about you. You're-" "Like the little sister Aden never had. I remember the speech." Jannia winced. What had possessed her to bringthat up, and now, of all times? Kerra quirked a brow at her. "Residual jealousy, Jann?" Jannia rolled her eyes. "The crush got crushed. I don't have those kind of feelings for anyone any more. You know that." "Right." It was Kerra's turn to roll her eyes. "That's why you seemed so disappointed when you found out Emarr wasn't here yet." "I wasn't-" Jannia stopped herself, but not before earning a raised eyebrow from Kerra. "Any sign of him yet?" Kerra shook her head, shaking loose a couple of golden curls from the crystal-threaded net cap that was supposed to keep her wild hair in some semblance of order. "No, and we're getting worried. It's not like him-" "-to be late for the Pointless Formality of the Century?" Jannia raised her hands as if to physically deflect Kerra's irritated scowl. "There are plenty of non-lethal things that could have delayed him." Jannia pondered, for a moment, telling Kerra what one of those things might be, but decided against it. Aden would have her head-especially if Emarr Dengas failed to deliver. "He'll show, Kerra. He wouldn't miss this."Which is the principal reason I didn't give in to the temptation to miss it myself. "It's sure starting to look like he will." Kerra sighed, leaning back against the doorframe. "When I left, Ryan O'Hare was actively campaigning for the position of replacement best man. He almost had Aden worn down." Jannia gritted her teeth. "You must be joking. O'Hare would have happily left Aden in that Kethrian woman's harem last year if he hadn't neededyour services to complete his business there. And then, when the rescue went bad-" "Ryan wasn't the only one who left Emarr behind, Jann. Aden and I did, too. We all thought he'd drowned-" "But O'Hare was his partner. It was his job to makesure Dengas made it. I swear, Kerra, if Aden does pick that bastard to take Dengas's place I'll-" "-do nothing, because it's our wedding, not yours. It's Ryan or Vaia, and no matter how many times I assure Aden I don't care about the raised eyebrows, he refuses to ask her. That's a big part of why I came over here. It's almost time, we're both so nervous we can barely breathe, and I don't want to end up in a fight with him, now of all times, because of frayed nerves. This is going to be the happiest day of our lives-" "-if it kills you," Jannia finished. Kerra laughed. "Exactly." She bit her lip, her eyes growing serious. "I don't think I've had a chance to tell you how glad I am that you're here for this. Besides Aden, you were the first real friend I ever had. Growing up in that damned research lab, a workaholic at fourteen-" "Yeah. Well." Jannia looked away. "You were my first friend since-well, since. Hell, you know I'm no good at this sentimental stuff." "I'm not fishing for poetry here, Jann." Kerra glanced at the chronometer on Jannia's nightstand. "You'd better get ready." Jannia reached into the utility cupboard by the door and withdrew her dress-probably the first article of clothing she'd owned in eight years that wasn't plain, severe and black. Kerra had abdicated the bride's privilege of selecting her attendants' dresses herself, but had threatened nasty consequences if her maid of honor dared to show up at the wedding dressed for a street fight. So Jannia had had to put up with the officious prattle of Dorcia Henner, bounty- hunter-turned-dressmaker, in a frantic effort to find something suitable. Jannia grimaced at the memory as she sealed the sanitory door behind her and slipped out of the towel. The colors that old busybody had tried to inflict on her! Jewel tones, of all things-yes, the bride was wearing sapphire blue, but that didn't mean the rest of the wedding party had to look like the contents of a treasure chest! Jannia jerked the dress on over her head. She had to admit the fabric felt nice going on. Soft and smooth. Cool. She'd chosen a loose flowing style that wouldn't restrict her movements. Not that she expected to dance at the wedding, but Kerra was a wanted woman on her homeworld and part of Jannia's job was to play bodyguard if any bounty hunters decided to crash the wedding. She reached into the concealed slit in the side of her skirt and strapped on her holdout blaster, then smoothed the soft deep green fabric back into place. She checked herself in the mirror. Good. The weapon didn't show. She picked up a brush off the counter and began working it through her hair. Hair that felt strangely wrong somehow-too short, too blunt. In her dream it had been long, falling almost to her waist. Gandes had used it to hold her down while he- She shook her head angrily. Losing sleep to the flashbacks was bad enough. Damned if she was going to start dwelling on them while she was awake. She picked up the silver hair-clasps Dorcia had thrust into her hands on her way out of the shop, and put them in her hair. Their simple geometric pattern suited her better than the flower or bird motifs that were currently in fashion, though she would have preferred no adornment at all. She stepped out of the sanitory. Kerra studied her for a long moment, then favored her with a nod and a rather odd smile. "I like that shade of green on you. It really suits you. Yeah, I'd say that's definitely your color." Jannia frowned. "Is that supposed to mean something?" Kerra shrugged. "Just an observation." "Let's go," Jannia said. "Let's get this wedding nonsense over with before I change my mind." Kerra shook her head and laughed. "I think I'm the one who's supposed to have cold feet, Jann." * * * Emarr disengaged himself awkwardly from the bowels of theLidaru 's port engine and glanced at the chronometer set high on the engine room wall. His heart dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of his liver. Damn. He had left Doravi with enough time to make it to Beckhaven with a couple of hours to spare, barring the unforeseen. Then the unforeseen had struck, in the form of a short circuit that had fried a couple of very important components that he'd had to dismantle half the port engine to reach. Aden Locke had asked three things of him: find Kerra's parents, who she had not seen since she was taken from them by the Divran Science Ministry at the age of ten; show up in time to surprise her with their presence at her wedding; and stand at Locke's side, as his best man-being the only male friend Locke had who might actually be able to keep him from dying of nervousness before he could get his vows spoken. Emarr's quest to locate Marcus and Kimbeth Telsier had been unavoidably interrupted, and now it looked like he was going to miss the wedding entirely. "Is it fixed?" Akaril regarded him with wide concerned eyes from her stool next to Emarr's tool chest. He reached out to ruffle the little girl's chin-length hair, the same rich bottle green as his own had been at her age. It was only a racial resemblance, superficial at best. Beyond their shared exotic coloring, there was no feature on her smooth young face that echoed the form of his. It did not matter. Not to his heart. She was the first of his kind he had seen in over a decade, and he, the only one of her kind she remembered. They were kin by default-and by choice. "I would not call itfixed," he answered her, "but the repair should hold until we can have a real mechanic look at it." "Then why are you still upset?" Emarr suppressed another inward curse as he worked to reinforce his mental shielding. His empathic control had improved since Akaril had come into his life, but apparently still needed work. "The repairs took too long. We will not arrive in time." "Is it my fault?" "No, of course not. Why would you even ask?" "I ran away. I tried to go back home, and you had to come get me." She chewed at her lower lip. "I didn't believe what you told me about Uncle. I could feel it was true, but I didn't believe it anyway." "You needed to see. I understand that." "I shouldn't have needed to. I felt him die. He hurt a lot, and he was scared, as scared as me. He was trying to come back. I made him come back to get me, 'cause I was so scared. I called him and he was coming, but he didn't make it. There was too much fire. It burned him. I felt it. Then I didn't feel anything. He was justgone." He could feel her anguish, her grief, her remembered terror. And beneath it all, the terrible, crushing guilt. "It was my fault. I did it-that thing I'm not supposed to do. I made him do what I wanted. He came back 'cause I made him, and he died." It was all Emarr could do to control his helpless rage at her words, to shield it from her, lest she think the anger aimed at her. She was a child. Only a child, alone and scared in a burning house while the bastard whoowned her tried to save his own worthless skin. She should not have had tomake him come back for her. But he could not say these things to her. She had loved the man, though he certainly did not deserve it. So all he could do was draw her warm little body into his arms. It took all his force of will to banish his rage, to fill his heart only with the soothing unconditional acceptance he needed her to feel. She burrowed into him, her little head pressed close against his heart. "I miss him," she said. "I know he didn't love me. Not like you do. But I didn't want him to die." "Of course you did not." He stroked her soft fine hair and let his spirit brush against the edges of her mind, soothing, calming. Forgiving, not because he felt that there was anything to forgive, but because she needed it. And he would see that she got what she needed from now on if it killed him. * * * "There you are." Vaialora Kondi glided down the catwalk overlooking the Beckhaven Station common room with the same sensual feline grace she did everything-including, Jannia had long suspected, use the sanitory. She was a tall lithe woman with polished-ebony skin and hair like still-burning embers, dressed in a form-fitting gown of shimmering, glowing optical fiber. Aden had been right not to make her his best man. She might just possibly have drawn more attention than the bride. Not a good thing in a woman who had once been the groom's lover. "Too much for you, too?" Jannia asked. She'd hoped not to be caught alone with her ex- partner, but that didn't mean a part of her hadn't been painfully aware of how hard this wedding must have been on Vaia. The Kethrian in her might have doomed her erstwhile relationship with Aden from the start, but the Tarenash in her was just as strong, and Tarenash mated for life. The Human in her, apparently, refused to take sides. Vaia leaned on the railing beside Jannia, looking down at the celebration going on below them-and, probably not coincidentally, eliminating the awkward necessity of eye contact. "It was a beautiful ceremony. Kerra was radiant. Glowing. Aden could scarcely keep his eyes off her." "Or his hands." Jannia grimaced, for the sake of Vaia's feelings as well as her own. Vaia shrugged. "When you truly love someone, Jann, that person's happiness becomes more important to you than your own. Yes, a part of me is in pain right now, but another part..." She breathed a confused little sigh. "I know you do not understand such things. I am not sure I do, either. Kerra loves him as much as I ever did, and she can give him all of her. I want that for him. I do-" "What about what you want?" "What I want, I can never have. Not with Aden. Not with anyone. My heart and my body are at war, and somehow my body always wins." She shot Jannia a quick guilty glance and pressed her lips tight together. "I am sorry, Jann. I meant to see howyou were doing, not inflict my own problems on you." Jannia shrugged. "I asked."And why the hell did I ask when I knew damned well I wouldn't be comfortable with the answers? "And how are you?" Vaia asked her. "How do you think? When he kissed her, after the vows, I wanted to tear him off of her with my bare hands. I wanted to run-to bolt like a spooked rabbit. But I couldn't, since Kerra would have had to chase me down and drag me back to sign the damned papers as her witness. Papers that could have been signed privately, in a nice sedate registry office, months ago. But no. Locke had to insist on giving her the whole fairy tale, with a dress and a bloodychaplain and her long-lost parents to give their blessings. Why make such a huge fuss over a simple domestic partnership contract?" Vaia's mouth curved in a small, sad smile. "You have never been in love, Jannia." "Except that one time." "That was not-" Jannia cut her off with an abrupt slicing gesture. "Don't, Vaia. Don't negate the last honest emotion I ever had. It felt damned real at the time." "I did not mean-" Jannia pushed back from the railing. "I need some fresh air." "Hard to come by on a space station," Vaia observed. "I'll improvise." Jannia squared her shoulders, one hand moving up to grasp the lapels of a coat she wasn't wearing. Self-conscious, she scratched an imaginary itch instead. "If you're not, um, looked after yet, you might want to snag O'Hare. He was still semi-sober last I saw him, which is more than I can say for most of this crowd." "Strange recommendation from you." Jannia shrugged. "Gets rid of him." Vaia laughed softly, a laugh that did not reach her eyes. "You, my friend, are a hopeless non-romantic." "You want to blow this party as bad as I do," Jannia said. "Think of it as a public service. Catch-and-release pest control." She tried to tug at her phantom coat again, then gave up and just turned away. * * * Jannia pulled the black leather duster she had retrieved from her apartment more closely around her as she looked out over the rows of docked ships in the hangar bay. There was a coldness within her that nothing could seem to dispel. She felt so far removed from the joy of the scene she'd just left-like an imposter, a stranger who didn't belong. What was wrong with her? Gandes was dead. Shouldn't the damage he'd done to her have died with him? The wide doors separating the hangar bay from the cold vacuum of space parted with a grinding rasp. Jannia looked up to see a small bright flash, like a burst of static electricity in a dark room, as the incoming ship's shields dispersed the forcefield keeping the vaccum outside where it belonged until the doors were safely closed again. The energy barrier crackled to a close behind the vessel, illuminating its distinctive silouette. TheLidaru , Emarr Dengas's new ship. "Better late than never, Dengas," she muttered to herself. "Though I bet Locke won't see it that way." The urge to flee was almost overwhelming. It almost overpowered her need to see him again, to face him. But she was done with running away. It was time to reclaim the things Gandes had taken from her. She could still remember the eerie emptiness within her as she stared down at Gandes's body, lying crumpled and broken at the bottom of the staircase of the Advarran townhouse where he'd held Kerra and Vaialora prisoner. Could still remember the strange, compelling warmth that filled her when she became aware of herself again and felt Emarr's strong arms around her. She knew his quick action in pulling her back from the stairs had probably saved her life. Still, the memory of Emarr's embrace-of the appalling knowledge that she'dlet him hold her-filled her with confusion. God, she barely knew him. He was one of the few men at Beckhaven who had never offered his services to satisfy Vaialora's Kethrian-influenced sex drive, and Jannia wasn't in the habit of seeking out men on her own. Their only real shared experience was the time she'd almost killed him. Jannia felt the whoosh of displaced air as Emarr's ship came in for a landing. It whipped the ends of her hair into her eyes, tore at the swirling folds of her skirt. Pushed at her, as though trying to urge her back toward the hangar door. She held her ground. The ship came to rest on the landing pad closest to where Jannia stood. So close she had to move back as the landing ramp descended. Something small and green dashed out, slamming into Jannia's legs so hard she almost stumbled. Hastily catching her balance, she put out one hand to push away whatever had hit her. It was a child. A small one, barely up to Jannia's waist, dressed in a loose shift of some coarse fabric. And green. Skin, hair, everything but the inquisitive nut-brown eyes gazing up into Jannia's face. A cute, little, green kid. "Look where you are going next time, my small one," chided a voice from the top of the ramp. A calm tenor voice with a rich, uncomfortably sensual accent. Still allergic to shirts, I see,Jannia thought dryly as her gaze settled on Emarr Dengas's broad shoulders and bare, sculpted chest. Her stomach did an odd fluttering dance as she remembered the sensation of that hard male body pressed against her back. The child was staring at her, Jannia realized. The silence had gone on too long. "Somebody hit you with a paternity suit, Dengas?" she asked. She tried to keep her tone light. It sounded forced even to her own ears. Emarr walked down the ramp and put an arm around the child's shoulder, drawing her close. A fierce protectiveness burned in his eyes. "Akaril is of my race, if not my blood," he said. "I found her alone among strangers and close to death, and I gave of my own flesh to heal her. So if she was not my daughter before, she is now." The child snuggled into his hip. Damned if she didn't look like she belonged there. "Say hello to Captain Wise, Akaril," Emarr prompted, nudging the child. "Hello, Captain Wise," the girl said obediently. "Hi, kid," Jannia answered. She thought she should say something else to the girl, but damned if she knew what. "I can count to ten and say all the parts of my body in Lidaru," the child announced with timid pride. "That's a language they speak where Kavay comes from. He's teaching me." "That's nice." Jannia hoped she wasn't expected to pat the kid on the head. Not that she didn't appear to be a perfectly nice kid, but Jannia wasn't the head-patting type. "How late am I, Pale One?" Dengas asked. Jannia suppressed a frown. Most of Emarr's female friends found his habit of assigning them nicknames a charming eccentricity. Not Jannia. If she'd wanted a label, she'd have sewn one on her coat. "Late," she said. "You missed the whole damn wedding, not to mention the civilized part of the reception. Nothing left now but the inevitable wild party. If you don't have what you were sent for, I'd fly the other way if I were you." Emarr glanced down at his daughter. "Akaril, go back inside and wait for me there." He waited, watching her run back into the ship. It gave Jannia a few moments to study him-the man she'd spent her entire adult life avoiding. Tall, strong and very male-not to mention green and shirtless-he was also elegant in a wild, primal way. Tight suede leggings hugged his lower body, and his hair was long and sleek and dark, a few locks at the temples braided and decorated with feathers and bits of colored stone.The noble savage who just happens to fly a starship. He turned back to face her. "I tried to keep my promise. I went to Divras Four, as I had been asked. Kerra's parents were no longer there. I was able to trace them to Doravi, but before I could find them-something more urgent came up." "The kid." He nodded. "She had been badly injured in a fire-a fire that also killed the man with whom she had been living. He was a wealthy recluse, and a collector of rare and exotic treasures, including several living ones. Akaril was not the only humanoid in his collection, though most of the others did not survive." "How bad was it? She looks okay now." "Only after months of extensive treatments. Healing her was not an easy matter. Her biochemistry, like mine, is very different from that of other humanoids. Her body's response to medication was unpredictable. They needed my tissues to culture suitable grafts, my previous medical experiences to know how to treat her pain and give her rest. And she-she neededme. To soothe and calm her. To let her know she was not alone. It was not possible to leave her side. "By the time she was well enough to travel..." His sweeping gesture took in the unusually still cargo bay, the maid of honor released from her duties. And the conspicuous absence of a certain middle-aged couple from Divras Four. "Under the circumstances," Jannia said, "I think Aden will forgive you." * * * Jannia had not been exaggerating when she'd said the party was getting wild. If anything, she could justly be accused of understatement. The groom's guests-about ninety percent of those present-consisted of smugglers, counterfeiters, pirates and those few bounty hunters who could be trusted not to make off with the bride. Most of these were already roaring drunk and slowly making their way toward comatose. Emarr was glad he had left Akaril on board theLidaru , in the care of the station owner's youngest daughter. This was no place for a child of her sensitivity. Vaialora was, unsurprisingly, not in evidence. She would surely have found a bedmate for the night by now-ah. No Ryan, either. A-strategic-choice on Vaialora's part. Near the bar, the majority of the bride's guests huddled in a nervous clot. Six young Kethrian males, most of them barely out of their teens, clad in colorful robes and with ribbons twisted in their long red hair. They hung close to their mistress, a six-breasted, dark-skinned woman whose sleeveless dress revealed impressively muscular arms. The other male, her senior mate, was nowhere to be seen. But Emarr knew he would not be far away. Ayav and Tamiana were pheromonally bonded, permanently and irrevocably. Their devotion to one another was absolute, the other six young men little more than a necessary convenience. Emarr glanced at Jannia. If she felt any discomfort at the Kethrians' presence, it did not show, nor could he sense it from her. The Lioris' bonding was a legacy of Gandes's vendetta against Vaialora's friends. He had abducted Tamiana with the intention of triggering the release of her bonding pheromones and setting her on Aden-then killing her, dooming Aden to suffer Gandes's own torment with no hope of relief, ever. Gandes had failed-but not before Tami had passed the point of no return-take a mate, bond him to her, or die. Aden had been spared. Ayav, already Tamiana's devoted mate, had taken his place without reservation. "There you are!" The words reached Emarr's ears on a wave of anger, irritation and ill- disguised relief as a tall, scruffy-looking Human male bore down on him. Aden Locke had no doubt started the festivities looking his best, but several hours of hard partying had taken their toll. The lapels of his formal tunic gaped open, and a lock of his long dark-blond hair had escaped the cord tying it back to hang rakishly down over his left eye. "It wasn't easy making excuses for you, you know. Kerra was getting worried. She figured you'd been arrested, or time-lost or something." He glanced over Emarr's shoulder, seeing no one, and his face fell. "Don't tell me you couldn't find them. Don't tell me they were dead or something." "I do not know if they live or not," Emarr confessed. "I was forced to leave the planet before I could find them." "Then why were you so damned late? If you missed the wedding on account of some female, Dengas, I swear I'll-" Jannia snorted. "Oh, there was a female involved all right. She's a beauty, too." Her voice was as cold as ever, but Emarr sensed her brief flicker of amusement. "Where's Kerra? I hope you didn't tell her." "Of course I didn't tell her," Aden huffed. "It was supposed to be a surprise. Good thing, too." His gaze bored into Emarr, who knew he was far from forgiven. "She was over by the bar, last I saw. She and Ayav Liori have been talking shop for the last hour. I knew it was a mistake to let her invite her favorite research-assistant-slash-subject to the wedding." He rolled his eyes. "After Gandes died I never wanted to hear the word 'pheromone' again. So now here I am married to a woman who studies them for a living." His gaze skated to Jannia, as if to gauge her reaction to his words. Her features were an emotionless mask. Only Emarr could sense the reflexive jolt of terror that had flashed through her at the mention of Gandes's name. "Could be worse," Jannia commented. "Look what Kerra has to put up with." "Funny," Aden grumped. "Your attempts to grow a sense of humor fall a little short of the mark, Jann." He nodded to Emarr. "I'll get my wife." A broad grin spread across his face. "My wife. It's going to take some getting used to, but I like the sound of it." He turned and headed off in search of his bride. "I wish I could have done this for her," Emarr said softly, once Aden had gone. "It is a hard thing to be away from one's family for so long." Jannia shrugged. "Depends on the family, I suppose. I can't say I've ever missed mine." She glanced at him. "You're not talking just about Kerra, are you?" Emarr shook his head. "I had not thought of home in some time. Finding Akaril brought it all back. I wish I could have asked the old man where he got her. I wish he had not died in that fire." "Sounds like he deserved it," Jannia offered. "A kid isn't a bloody collector's item!" "The one who tore her from her home and sold her to him deserves worse," Emarr answered. "He might have led me to her. Now, she will be more difficult to find." He looked at Jannia, watching her face, reaching out to her with his senses. It was the first time she had let him this close in nearly a year. The first time she had seemed open to talking to him. And all he could seem to talk about was the child. "You know who he got her from, then," Jannia said. "I have my suspicions." Whether it was the tone of his voice or whether the dark rage that rose in him at the thought of those suspicions leaked out to her, she dropped the subject abruptly. He almost wished otherwise. The silence between them was anything but comfortable. It was an emotional silence as well as an aural one. Jannia was closed to him now, the emotions he had sensed before-her amusement, her fear-sealed away behind the cold mental walls she had lived behind as long as he had known her. "Emarr!" Kerra broke free from her husband's arm as they approached. She threw herself into Emarr's arms, hugging him tightly. A flood of sisterly affection washed out from her, sweet and warm, smothering any attempt to penetrate the wall around Jannia's heart. "I'm so glad you made it! I was afraid something had happened." "Something did," Emarr told her, setting her gently away from him. In the past, Aden had sometimes been jealous of their friendship. This would not be the best time to provide fuel for that jealousy. "There is someone I would like you to meet. Someone very special." He took her by the arm, offering his other arm to Jannia. He was mildly disappointed, but not surprised, when she ignored it. "I've already met her," Jannia said. "I'm going to call it a night." Emarr only nodded. "I will see you again soon," he said. It came out sounding like more of a command than a promise. Inwardly, he winced. "Soon," Jannia replied, and turned away. * * * Jannia slipped out of the soft pine-green dress-the color of Emarr's hair, she suddenly realized. She grimaced, remembering Kerra's knowingly pointed comments.Right . She threw the dress in the general direction of the laundry processor. After unstrapping the blaster from her thigh, she stalked into the sanitory in search of the nightdress she'd discarded there this morning. After her sweat-soaked awakening, it wasn't fit to wear again, and she'd have to change the sheets, too. She muttered obscenely to herself as she headed back out to the main room. She stared down at the rumpled bed. The sheets were twisted, as if more had gone on there last night than sleep. She stripped the bed with a single hard jerk and threw the bedding on the floor. She'd never even had a chance to talk to him. No, that wasn't quite true. They'd talked about his failed quest, and the child he'd found instead. They'd probably talked more than they had in the past eight years, which admittedly wasn't saying a lot. Damn her, she'd fled the first chance she got. She could have stayed, waited for Aden and Kerra to leave, for the child to go to sleep. She could still have brought up what she had to say. She really couldn't blame the circumstances for her own cowardice. She pulled a fresh set of sheets from the cupboard by the bed, wishing the damage to her life could be repaired as easily as the damage to her bed. Eight years, and she still cringed if anyone tried to touch her. Eight years, and she still couldn't sleep through the night. It was time to put an end to it. It was time to take back the things Gandes had taken away from her. Next time, she wouldn't run away. Next time she would tell Emarr what she wanted from him. He cared for her. She knew that much. And he was an empath. The child was an unexpected complication, but not an insurmountable one. Jannia straightened the blanket. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would ask Emarr Dengas to take her to his bed and teach her not to be afraid. CHAPTER 2 ========= "Emarr, she's beautiful." Kerra Locke went down on one knee before Akaril, bringing herself to the child's eye level. "How old are you, sweetie?" Akaril burrowed into her father's hip and gave a barely visible shrug. "Burkeholt apparently did not bother keeping track of her birthdays," Emarr said. "The doctors on Doravi thought she was about the equivalent of a six-year-old Human." "Bornafter old Vargas died, then," Aden said. "Looks like the location of your homeworld didn't die with him after all." "And you have no idea where this Burkeholt character got her?" Kerra asked. "Whoever killed Vargas, apparently," Aden said. "They must have got it out of-" Aden broke off as Emarr sent him a silent warning. This was not territory he was prepared to explore in Akaril's presence. Old Vargas's death had been slow and cruel. At the time, everyone had assumed one of the many clients he had stiffed over the years had decided to make an example of him. Vargas had been unprofessional, unreliable and perpetually in debt. Not even selling the exotic alien boy he had accidentally brought back from an uncharted fringe world had been enough to turn his life around. Vargas had been destined for a bad end, but still, the brutal reality of his death was enough to wring sympathy even from that now-freed slave. No one deserved what had been done to him. "Kavay, I'm hungry," Akaril complained, seeking to draw attention back to herself. "Can I have some pizza?" Kerra shot an amused glance in Emarr's direction as he moved to the meal processor, Akaril tagging along as if attached to him with a tractor beam. "Pizza? Not introducing her to the authentic homeworld cuisine?" "She favors the foods old Burkeholt fed her," Emarr said. "Mainly pizza, noodles with various types of sauces, and an unlikely sounding dish called 'fish toes'." "Fishfingers ," Akaril corrected, rolling her big brown eyes at him as he handed her a small round pizza that he knew from experience she would take fewer than four bites of. She gave Kerra a shy smile and spoke around a mouthful of pizza. "Do you have any children?" "Hey, kid," Aden protested good-naturedly. "We just got married this morning. Don't rush us, okay?" Akaril swallowed quickly before she spoke again. "Are you angry because Kavay broke his promise?" Kerra looked from Akaril to Aden to Emarr. Quickly, Emarr opened an empathic link to his daughter; let her feel his caution, his unwillingness to discuss that subject in Kerra's presence. "No, I'm not mad that your Kavay couldn't be best man at my wedding," Aden said, looking her directly in the eye. "Taking care of you was more important." He looked over at Emarr. "I mean that. I'd have done the same thing." "Thank you for understanding." Emarr reached out to intercept Akaril, who had been heading for the recycler with her barely touched pizza. "That is a waste. Leave it on the table and I will put it away for tomorrow." "If the 'cycler uses its molly-whatsits to make it into something else, how is that wasting?" Akaril asked. Aden answered for him. "Energy, kid. Cooking and recycling require energy, generating energy requires fuel, and fuel costs money." He held out his hand. "Give it to me. I'll eat it. I'm not afraid of kid germs." Akaril shrugged and handed it to him. "Idon't have germs," she told him loftily. Emarr and Kerra did not exchange glances, but a ripple of shared amusement passed between them. It warmed him. He had missed the sense of kinship they shared. "They're laughing at us, you know," Akaril said. "I'm used to it." Aden crammed about half the pizza into his mouth. "Now I would speak to my friends privately," Emarr said, turning his attention back to Akaril. "Go to your cabin and prepare for bed. I will be in soon to sing you to sleep." "I'm not tired." "You say that every night, and every night you are asleep before I finish the third song. Now sayjaru-la to Aunt Kerra and Uncle Aden. It is already very late." "Jaru-la," Akaril said. "That means good night. Even though I'mreally not tired." She shot Emarr a last aggrieved look and headed for her cabin. "Uncle Aden?"Locke mock-glared at Emarr. "Do I look like an Uncle Aden to you?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "This isn't your sneaky way of trying to rope us into host- parent duty, is it?" "No. Of course not. I know you plan to wait awhile before having children of your own. I would not presume to encumber you with mine." "Then what are you going to do with her?" Kerra asked. "Who will care for her while you're out on contracts? You can't mean to keep her on the ship with you." "I do," Emarr answered. "She isKinya-d'sar, a child born with her empathic talents prematurely awakened.Her gifts are already stronger than mine, and will become even stronger once puberty awakens them fully. On the homeworld, children like Akaril are raised in isolation so their minds are not overwhelmed by exposure to the unshielded emotions of hundreds of people. My ship will provide that isolation." "And who's going to care for her while you're doing business?" Kerra asked. "Bringing her with you to spaceport taverns and crowded space stations will expose her to a lot more than a few unshielded emotions." "I will find someone," Emarr assured her. "A hired companion-a young Densharite, perhaps, who can be playmate as well as caregiver. The gods gave this child to me. I will see to her needs." "What about her need for safety? You're still a working smuggler. How can you raise a kid on a ship that's going to be shot at on a regular basis? I can see that you love this child, Emarr, and I'm trying to be happy for you, but I don't see how this can work." She looked over at Aden, her eyes imploring, begging him for support in what she was about to say. "Wewill take her if you ask us to. You know that. I'm still very busy with my research, and Aden's job keeps him away a lot, but we can work something out. A Densharite is a good idea..." "No." The finality in Emarr's tone, in his involuntary empathic projection cut off at least herverbal protests. "Akaril is my responsibility. Mine alone. How will you teach her how to use and control her empathic talents? And that is not even to mention that you live in a densely populated city where Akaril's mind would be constantly bombarded with the unshielded emotions of gods-know-who." "You've spent plenty of time in big cities," Aden said. "Doesn't seem to have done you any harm." "I am neither a child nor aKinya-d'sar. I do not think you comprehend just how vulnerable my daughter is. She stays with me. I know it is not an ideal situation, but it is the best thing I can offer her right now. "And when all is said and done, the fact remains that I accepted responsibility for her when I took her home from that hospital on Doravi. When I told her to call me by my people's name for father. What message will it send her if I then hand her over to others at the first available opportunity?" Pain stabbed his heart as he spoke the words. It was, of course, inevitable that he do so eventually. But gods damn him if he would do it so soon. "We understand," Aden said quickly, when Kerra opened her mouth for another round of protests. "You've got to do what you think is best for your own kid. Just remember we're still here if you change your mind." Emarr nodded. "Thank you." "We'd better go so you can see about tucking in that kid of yours." The look Aden sent his bride brooked no contradiction. She would have words for him once they were alone. Emarr whispered a soft prayer for forgiveness. He had not meant to spark a quarrel on their wedding night. * * * "Why did you haul me out of there?" Kerra demanded once they were back in the privacy of their rented flat. "I could have talked some sense into him! He's being totally unreasonable, he's putting that innocent child in unnecessary danger, he's-" "He's her parent. You're not. It isn't our decision to make." "You just don't want us to take her. I heard you in there. 'This isn't your way of roping us into host-parenting, is it?' I really thought you'd be more willing to step in and help a friend. Especially one who nearly got himself killed last year saving you from the proverbial fate worse than death." "You think I meant that?" Aden sounded hurt. "I figured you knew what I was doing-that you were following my lead." "What were you doing, exactly?" "Putting the idea in his head. You know damned well it would never occur to him to ask otherwise. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed that I backed you up after that." Kerra jerked a hand through her hair, or tried to. Her fingers got caught in the crystal- threaded mesh that hadn't quite managed to keep her curls under control. "Oh, yeah, you backed me up, all right. If I had that kind of backup on Kethry you'd be bonded to that Issari woman now." "I had to pull you out, Doc. You were maligning his manhood in there, and that never goes over well." "What does his manhood have to do with it?" "You told him he didn't have what it takes to protect his family." "I didn't say he didn't have what it takes! I just reminded him that the danger exists and Akaril doesn't have to be exposed-" "That may have been what you meant to say, but it's not what he heard. And it would be ten times worse coming from you than from anyone else. I know you two have this connection-" Kerra looked at him sharply. "Emarr and I have never been more than friends. I shouldn't have to tell you that." "Hold your fire, Doc. I didn't mean-" Aden broke off and took another run at the subject. "You and Dengas havealways been more than friends, and we both know it. Why else were you so eager to jump in and offer to raise the man's kid for him? That's not what casual friends do, Doc. It's what family does." "Family." Kerra tested the word on her tongue. She liked its taste. It suited the way she felt about Emarr Dengas perfectly. "Family who need to learn to butt out once in a while." Kerra didn't miss the plural nature of his phrasing. He was including himself in that evaluation as well. "I'm just worried about them, Aden." "Yeah. Me too." He reached for her, spanned her waist with his strong hands and drew her close. "But I know just how to take our minds off it." * * * The echo of Kerra's words lingered, lurking in the corners of Emarr's mind long after she and Aden had gone. There was truth in those words. He knew it, deep inside. He also knew the solution she offered presented as many problems as it solved. Akaril needed another empath, a strong one. Stronger than he, ideally, but that was not possible right now. Admittedly, Kerra was more sensitive, more perceptive than any other Human he knew. But this made her no less Human. Her brand of empathy was a combination of observation and perspective, nothing more. Still, she had not needed to be an empath to touch on the truth that gnawed persistently on his mind. A child of Akaril's sensitivity required a safe, serene environment in which to develop. How could he provide her with that? She had no one else, Kerra's offer notwithstanding. Their people were the only race he knew of whose empathic gifts took the form theirs did. Who else could teach her not only how to shield herself from the unwanted emotions of others, but to control the projection of her own feelings as well? She would only grow stronger as she matured. He had several years before the first glow of dawning womanhood awoke her gifts to their full strength, but already the prospect frightened him. Gods! He knew nothing of raising a daughter, even had she been an ordinary child! Akaril's empathic gifts were already stronger than his own. And to care for her alone, with no female of their race to help guide her through the transition from child to woman... He shuddered. A daunting task indeed, and one he could hardly ask of Jannia even if her recent, uncharacteristic tendency to seek out his company meant what he so urgently hoped it meant. No, Akaril needed a woman, a mentor, of her own kind. Jannia-now there was another problem, one not even his concerns for his daughter could entirely drive from his mind. Dear, ambivalent Jannia, seeking him out one minute and fleeing from him the next. She wanted to connect with him, to discover just what had begun between them the night he had saved her life. Or that other night, seven years earlier, when she had almost ended his. Emarr's fingers brushed thoughtfully at the rough jagged scar on his temple. He had gone to a spa on the surface of Beckhaven Station's host world with Merilee O'Hare, sister and then- partner of the man who had freed him. It was the first time they had been alone, away from her brother's inhibiting presence, and he knew she hoped he would make love to her. He had intended to do just that. Merilee had gone off on her own for a time, to engage in some arcane female ritual designed to make herself beautiful for him. As though her kindness, her laughing face, her sweet, lush body were not beauty enough. Emarr had gone for a walk, exploring a path through the spa's lush parkland, and come across an isolated, open-air bath. The bath was almost hidden from the path by the surrounding trees, and at first he had thought it unoccupied. He had approached, thinking to avail himself of the warm waters himself, when he saw her. Lean and pale, her dark hair cropped jaggedly short, she should not have seemed beautiful to him. He caught a glimpse of bare white breasts as she whirled to face him, startled by the sound of his approach. He had opened his mouth to apologize, and started to back away. Rage and terror flashed out from her like a bolt from an ion cannon. So sudden. So strong. They froze Emarr where he stood. His words caught in his throat, unable to escape. She grabbed the first thing she touched and hurled it at him with all her strength. Merilee had found him some time later, lying unconscious on the path, with a stoneware urn of soil and once-live flowers shattered on the stones beside him. Jannia came to his hospital room several days later, once the doctors had repaired his cracked skull and the fragile, bruised tissue beneath. Emarr sensed that the Kethrian woman with her had forced her to come. Dressed all in black, she looked even paler than she had before. Had he not been an empath, he would have doubted the sincerity of her cold-voiced apology. As it was, he could barely sense the shadow of what truly lay behind those words. She had buried her feelings in a dark, cold pit and surrounded it with a wall of ice, but they were there. She had not run and hid from him when he'd surprised her at the bath. She had defended herself, with swift reflexes and deadly accuracy. And she had been open to him, mentally, in that moment as she had never been since. Raw emotion, rawbeing. It had been more than just the nearest heavy object she had hurled at him. It had beenher.All of her. Everything she was in one desperate, concentrated burst. A gift bestowed unknowingly, but no less real, no less treasured, for that. Fear and courage. Strength and pain. The wounded, craving heart of a rejected child and the fierce loyalty of one who held on to her few, precious friendships with both hands-not to mention teeth. She had branded herself on his soul and never known. When she had gone, the Kethrian sat down on the edge of his bed and explained to him what had been done to the girl. And he had known. Why their paths has crossed that night. Why he, and he alone, had been shown what lay inside her, buried deep where none but he could find it. He never had made love to Merilee O'Hare. * * * Jannia shuddered awake, escaping the grip of some vague, disturbing dream. Not the old familiar nightmare she'd lived with for so long. Not this time. Though the details of the dream were already fading as she stared at the ceiling, she remembered the sense of impending change, encroaching on her like a dark blanket, locking out all vision of what might lie beyond. She glanced at the table by the bed where the syringe of sleeping medication lay ready to spray a carefully metered dose through the microscopic spaces between her skin cells and into her bloodstream. The chronometer lights shone softly, mocking her with the knowledge of how little she'd slept. With an angry sweep of her hand, she knocked both of them onto the floor. Damned if she was going to turn into one of those people who depended on drugs to keep the dreams at bay. People like her mother. She sat up and ran her fingers through her sleep-rumpled hair, forcing it back out of her eyes. She knew from long experience that there was no point in trying to get back to sleep. This dream was new. It was more than just the replaying of past events, though it, too, contained an element of carnality. This scheme of hers, she realized. The one that had been tugging at the back of her mind for months, ever since she'd first learned who her opposite number in the wedding party was to be. It must be nervousness at what she planned to do that was giving her these new, disturbing dreams. Well, the only way to deal with that nervousness was to face it. Jannia rose from the bed and headed to the communications console. She almost hit the code for Emarr's flat before she remembered. He was staying on his ship, so as not to uproot Akaril from her familiar cabin. It took her several impatient minutes to locate the codes for theLidaru from the station manifest. Emarr had been up, Jannia realized with surprise as his face filled the screen a bare second after she'd entered his code. She felt an irrational surge of disappointment. Part of her had hoped to disturb his sleep, as the dream had disturbed hers. "It is late, Pale One," Emarr said, demonstrating the universal male talent for stating the obvious. "I've got a name, Dengas." "So do I," Emarr replied calmly. "A call so late must have a reason, Jannia. Am I permitted to know it?" Jannia gritted her teeth in annoyance. Emarr's over-formal speech patterns were going to drive her out an airlock if she went through with this. But she couldn't think of another man she might stand a chance of succeeding with. "I need to see you," she said. "Tonight, if possible."Before I lose my nerve completely. Surprise and something uncomfortably like anticipation flickered in Emarr's eyes. "Come over," he told her. "I will see you when you arrive." He terminated the connection. Jannia took one glance at the dress that lay crumpled on the floor next to the laundry processor, and shook her head. It would be hopelessly creased by now. She opened the door to her clothes closet and looked inside. Not promising. Black, black and more black, everything severely tailored to conceal what few feminine curves she possessed. Her armor, as Vaialora sometimes called it. Not at all conducive to the kind of seduction she had in mind. She could borrow something from Vaialora... The thought trailed off before she'd even finished it. Vaia was taller than she by a good six inches, with a lush figure and the most exotic taste in fashion of anyone else Jannia knew. Kerra, maybe? No. Even if she were willing to disturb her friend in the middle of the night on her honeymoon, Kerra was several inches shorter than Jannia, and much better endowed. If anything, her clothes would fit even worse. This was ridiculous. Since when was Jannia Wise worried about the impression her clothes would make? But that was the problem. All her clothes sent the same message:Don't touch me. That was the last message she wanted to send tonight. She finally settled for a plain, sleeveless white top that she usually wore under a jacket, and a pair of pants old and faded enough that they appeared more gray than black. She ran a brush through her hair and then, as an afterthought, put the silver clasps back in. It was hours after midnight, station time, but the corridors were far from deserted. There were always people coming and going in a place like this, and the newcomers would still be on whatever time-system they kept to on their ships. Jannia herself found it easiest to keep Beckhaven time wherever she was, a habit she'd learned from Vaialora, who spent more time on her home station than any other smuggler in the business. Easier, here, for Vaia to find sexual partners she could trust. Partners like Ryan O'Hare, whose bed she was sharing tonight. Or like Aden Locke, whose bed she'd been sharing when- Jannia quelled the thought. Ancient history, that. Aden was married to Kerra now, and Vaia-thoughts of Vaia led too far down the wrong damn road. The entry ramp on Emarr's ship was already down when she arrived, meaning that the proximity indicator would most likely be turned off. It would have been a foolish breach of security on any other station, but Jannia was glad of it. Inadvertently waking the kid wouldn't be conducive to her plans. She made her way up the ramp and onto the ship. Jannia found Emarr sitting at the table in the ship's tiny lounge, sipping at a cup of something steamy, whose enticing fragrance wafted across the ship's lounge to tease Jannia's nostrils. Not coffee. Something sweet and spicy and thoroughly exotic. There was a second cup sitting across from him, already poured. "Hello, Pale One," Emarr said. "Jannia," she corrected. "What's this problem you have with women's names?" "A cultural remnant," Emarr answered. "From my homeworld. Women have great power. You can create life from within your own bodies. To speak the name of one who holds power is to invoke that power." Jannia snorted in disbelief. "What, you think if you say my name you'll get me pregnant?" Emarr shook his head, laughing softly. "No. Not exactly. On my world, the only male permitted to speak a woman's name is the one who shares her bed." Jannia's heart missed a beat. "That's why you called Kerra 'Maiden' for so long." Emarr nodded. "In most cases, I no longer adhere to that tradition. But there are certain women with whom it still seems appropriate. You among them." He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Sit, please. Thedasu is getting cold." Jannia sat down and glanced distrustfully into her cup. "What is it, anyway?" "A tea made from certain berries and spices native to Doravi. I drank a great deal of it, waiting while the doctors worked to heal Akaril. The stimulant it contains is safer for my kind than that found in so many of your Human drinks." "Caffeine isn't safe? What does it do to you?" Jannia grimaced.Now there's a romantic topic. Do I know how to set the mood, or what? Emarr regarded her with what looked a bit too much like knowing amusement. "Probing the competition for weaknesses?" No, just desperately grasping at conversational straws, as you almost certainly know."Just curious." "Let us just say it renders me harmless." "Harmless in what way?" "In every way. And now that you know that, I will, of course, have to kill you." "Very funny. I suppose that means this stuff is poisoned." Jannia took a tentative sip of her drink. Nice. It reminded her of the spiced cider the guy across the hall used to give her when she was a kid. "Doesn't taste poisoned." "If you like it, I can give you some to take back to your ship." Jannia shook her head. "I'm not big on stimulants, even mild ones. I have enough trouble sleeping nights without them." She raised the cup to her face and just inhaled its delicious scent. "It would be a crime to waste this." "I agree. It is regrettably habit-forming. I felt compelled to stock up ondasu before we left Doravi. That, pizza and fish toes." The corner of Jannia's mouth twitched. "You mean fish fingers." "Either way-something fish are not supposed to have." He took another sip of hisdasu. "My stasis chamber is full of the most appalling foods. I have tried to prepare Akaril healthy, nourishing meals, but she will not touch them. She will try nothing she has not already tasted." "There's comfort in the familiar," Jannia said. "It sounds like she's been through a lot." "I cannot sleep in my flat," Emarr continued, "because there is no place for Akaril there. I went to the console earlier to ask Beck to assign me a larger apartment, when it occurred to me that all the larger apartments are in the main part of the station. I cannot expose Akaril to such crowded conditions." "You don't seem to mind sayingher name," Jannia pointed out. "Akaril is a child, not a woman, and I am her father," Emarr said. He raised his cup to his lips, muttering something before taking a sip. It sounded like, "Gods help me." Jannia frowned. This wasn't going the way she'd pictured it at all. She was beginning to feel vaguely foolish. She'd come here to seduce the man; instead here she was listening to him talk about his kid.God, Dengas, will you please change the subject? "So why did you want to speak to me?" Emarr asked, so close on the heels of her last thought that hemust have sensed it. Jannia set her cup down. She should make something up and just get out of here. The problem was, she couldn't think of a ruse that wouldn't make her look more foolish than she already felt. She took a deep breath. "It's about what happened on Advarra." Emarr nodded slowly. "I thought it might be." "You saved my life." "Perhaps," Emarr said. "You might have survived the fall." "Gandes didn't." Emarr set his cup down and pushed it away. "I require no thanks for what I did that day." "That's good," Jannia said, "because I'm not here to thank you." She wrapped her fingers around her cup, drawing strength from its warmth. "You did more than save my life that day. You touched me. You held me in your arms and I let you." "For a moment," Emarr said. "Yes. For a moment." "I wondered if you even remembered," Emarr said. "You were in shock. You were staring at Gandes's body like it was the only thing that existed in the universe. I wondered, at the time, if you even knew I was there." "I knew," Jannia said, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "I felt you." "I did not feel you," Emarr told her. "Physically, yes, but the other... it was as though you were not there. As though you had gone with him. It was-very frightening. When you came back to yourself and pushed me away, I thanked the gods." "I expected the nightmares to go away once he was dead," Jannia said. "The flashbacks. The chills whenever anyone got too close or tried to touch me. But they didn't. In some ways, they got worse. And recently, I've started having other dreams, too." Emarr nodded. "Not unexpected. Much has changed. Gandes's death. Your newfound independence from Vaialora. I also had disturbing dreams, in the months after Ryan and his sister freed me from my old mistress. When the real danger is past, it becomes safe to let yourself feel the fear." "I've been feeling the fear for a year now," Jannia retorted. "I want it to go away now." "And you wish me to help you," Emarr surmised. "Because I am an empath. Because I have feelings for you." Jannia nodded, relieved that Emarr had put into words what she could not seem to find a way to say. "I want to take back what Gandes stole from me. I want to feel what other people feel. I want-" She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and said the words before they could dam up in her throat. "I want you to make love to me." She opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. They were trembling. Emarr reached out and took her hands in his. His fingers were large and strong, trapping hers. She wanted to pull away, but she didn't. She let him hold her hands. He looked into her eyes, and she could see it there. The love she had never asked for and never understood. The love that could heal her, if she could only find the strength to let it. "I am sorry," he said. "I cannot." Jannia jerked her hands from Emarr's grip. "What do you mean, you can't?" she demanded. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking. I'd have thought you'd grab the opportunity with both hands." "A part of me is tempted to," Emarr admitted. "I will not pretend otherwise. I have never tried to hide how I feel about you, but I will not act on those feelings. Not now. Not like this. It is far too soon, and you do not understand what you ask of me." The hell I don't.What little comfort Jannia had achieved in Emarr's presence had drained away at his infuriatingly calm denial. She needed to move away, to put distance between them. She got to her feet and walked over to the viewport. It showed an image beamed in from one of the outside cameras, of the shimmering blue and white planet below. "It wasn't easy for me to come here, you know. To ask you this." "No, I do not imagine that it was." Emarr rose and moved to stand behind her, close enough to touch her. So close she could feel the heat of his body against her back. She wished she'd worn a jacket after all. "I care for you deeply," Emarr said. "I would have you know that, at least." "You don't even know me." "You are not an easy woman to know," Emarr agreed. "But I have wanted to try." "I've given you the chance. You refused it." Emarr edged even closer, and for a moment, Jannia thought he was going to put his hands on her. "You have offered no such opportunity," he countered. "You asked me to make love to you, but you did not even mean that. Sex. A joining of bodies. That is all you are looking for, and you think it will heal the damage to your soul. It will not." Jannia turned to face him. He was standing so close now that the slightest movement by either of them would bring their bodies into contact. His sheer physical presence seemed to overwhelm her, filling the room. She wanted to back away, to escape, to run. "I am not even touching you," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Not even touching you, and already you are afraid. I can feel it, like a cold wall all around you. And yet you think you are ready to be intimate with me?" He raised one hand, slowly, brushing the very tips of his fingers against her cheek. Panic stabbed into Jannia, cold, like a jagged shard of ice. She jerked away, but her back hit the wall, trapping her. Her heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest, as if it would escape even if the rest of her could not. "I cannot make love to you," Emarr reiterated. He stepped aside and back, giving her room to bolt. Jannia took a deep breath to steady herself, and held her ground, trying to salvage what little dignity remained to her. He was right, damn him, and she hated him for it. "I want to," Emarr said quietly. "I have wanted to for so long the need has become part of me, as real as the need for food, or warmth, or breath. But I will not do more damage to you than has already been done." "Then I'm sorry to have bothered you." Jannia started for the door. "Wait," Emarr said. Jannia paused, her hand already resting on the door controls. "I've already humiliated myself completely," she said. "What else is there to say?" "I do want to help you," Emarr said. "I do want to-know you. If you are willing to go slowly, to wait until you are truly ready-" "Good-bye, Dengas," Jannia said firmly. "You had your chance." She keyed the door open and was gone. CHAPTER 3 ========= "What's the matter, Kavay?" Akaril asked, frowning worriedly at him across the breakfast table the next morning. "Were your friends angry at you?" "Eat your breakfast, Akaril," Emarr said, picking up her untouched spoon and handing it to her. Akaril stuck the spoon in her bowl and left it there. "I'm not hungry. You're making my stomach feel strange." Emarr sighed. He was going to have to be careful around the child. She picked up on his feelings too easily. He was fortunate she knew enough to differentiate his second-hand feelings from her own, but he was going to have to start working on his control. "I am worried about someone," he admitted. "It is nothing you need to concern yourself about." "Is it that lady?" Akaril prompted. "Captain Wise?" "I told you that you need not concern yourself," Emarr reiterated more firmly. "I will try not to let my feelings disturb you in the future." "I like her," Akaril said. "She's nicer on the inside than the outside." Emarr looked at her sharply. "You should not allow yourself to see inside adults you hardly know, Akaril. Nor share with others what you see there." Unease clouded her eyes as she gazed up at him, buzzed uncomfortably in his sense of her. Unease, and the memory of a guilt nothing he had said or done so far had managed to dispel. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I try to be good. I really do..." He reached out to lay a gentle hand over hers. "I know you do, my small one. Your gifts are strong, and controlling them is hard work. I also slip at times." He sent her waves of acceptance, of reassurance. "You did no harm-it was simply a case of bad manners. Do you feel any anger from me?" Slowly, Akaril shook her head, and he could sense her mood lightening. She managed a small, shy smile. "But is it okay that I like what I saw?" He squeezed her hand and smiled. "Of course. I like her too." Satisfied, Akaril picked up her abandoned spoon and shoved an overly large scoop of cereal into her mouth. Emarr struggled to shield his intense relief. It was a challenge, trying to teach her control when his every reprimand reminded her of the one transgression that really had hurt someone. It was a measure of her growing trust in him that she'd accepted his reassurance so readily. But she was an empath herself. She could sense his affection, his good will toward her. Jannia Wise did not have that advantage. It had been a mistake to frighten her as he had, even to make a point. He might very well have lost his chance, as she had said. The realization hung in his thoughts like a dark, noxious cloud, poisoning his mood. He needed something to take his mind off her- "Can we visit the planet today? Miss Beck said it was really beautiful down there." Akaril asked so suddenly that Emarr wondered if everything he had just said to her about mental privacy had tumbled promptly back out her ears without stopping to visit her brain. Or, more likely, that it didn't apply tohim. Emarr decided it best not to chide the child about the privacy breach. Instead, he pondered her request. A large part of him did not like the idea. The only place he would be able to take her was to the relaxation spa on the southern tip of the northeast continent. It was the only area of the planet open to visitors from above, according to the charter that had allowed the Becks to build their space station here. Considering what Humans had historically done to other untouched worlds they encountered, Emarr understood the restriction. The spa did not attract huge crowds. Aside from the planet's natives, only the Beckhaven regulars knew about it. Still, it seemed just a little too public for a child who should, by rights, have been cloistered almost from birth. But Akaril's eyes, just moments ago so clouded with anguish, sparkled in eager anticipation. Emarr sighed. There were parts of the spa that were less public than others, he supposed. It should not be too hard to avoid other people. "We can go," he said. Whooping with joy, Akaril erupted from her seat and launched herself into Emarr's arms. * * * "Would you like another drink, Captain Wise? If you do not wish alcohol, we have some lovely fruit drinks-" The native waiter hovered anxiously, eyeing the half-finished drink Jannia had ordered over two hours ago. She shot him an irritated look. He didn't need this table for any other customers. It wasn't like this was one of the galaxy's major tourist spots. "I'm familiar with your beverage menu, thanks," she told him. "If I wanted another drink, I'd have ordered one by now." The waiter left, muttering something to himself about rude offworlders and if the owner hadn't said this one was a regular customer... Jannia felt like throwing her glass at his retreating back. She winced at the memory that image dredged up. Not of shattered glass, but of shattered stoneware and broken flowers. This was the last place she should have come if she wanted to forget. She'd never be able to face Emarr Dengas again. It was that simple. She was halfway tempted to change her ship's port registry so she'd never have to see the smug bastard again. She'd been so sure she could do it. Yes, she'd been afraid, but she'd faced her fear before, when she walked into that abandoned house on Advarra with Aden Locke to rescue Kerra and Vaia from Gandes's clutches. Surely this would be no different? But Emarr had barely touched her, and she'd cowered like a frightened baby bird. It was no use, she understood now. Gandes had left her irrevocably, irretrievable broken. Even in death, he had won. Jannia stared out beyond the stone ledge separating the open-air restaurant from the rest of the outside. The restaurant, indeed the entire spa, was built on the side of a mountain, with an excellent view of the lake-filled valley below. It was late morning, and the sun was already high in the sky. A faint pleasant balsam scent wafted toward Jannia, carried on a gentle breeze. This place usually relaxed Jannia, helped her forget about the broken places inside her. But not today. "Look, Kavay! Your friend is here!" Chill fingers of dread clutched at Jannia's intestines at the sound of that high, familiar voice.God, no. Not here. Not now. "Perhaps we should not disturb her-" Whatever reprieve Emarr's words might have granted Jannia was shattered as the little girl dashed from the restaurant's open archway to her side. "Hi, Captain Wise!" "Hi, kid."Go away, she added mentally, but kept the words to herself. The kid was just being friendly. She had no idea what was going on between Jannia and her father. Or what wasn't going on. Akaril's gaze dropped, but not before Jannia saw the wounded look in her soft brown eyes. Silently, Jannia cursed herself. Apparently biting one's tongue wasn't good enough where empaths were concerned. "I wasn't expecting to see you here today," she said, trying to project a geniality that was foreign to her nature. "You kind of surprised me. Are you going to check out the play area?" Akaril smiled, though there was still a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Kavay's going to show me all thesecret parts of the spa," she said in a conspiratorial whisper loud enough to be heard back on the station. "Did you know there are trails that go halfway up the mountain? And big bathing pools with so many trees around them you can't even see them from the path. There's even an old native shrine that's been decon... deconst..." "Deconsecrated," Emarr filled in, reaching his daughter's side. "Hello, Pale One. Did you sleep well?" "Yes, thank you."Not a wink. "Are you here all alone?" Akaril asked. "Because you could come with us." "I think your father wants to spend the day with just you," Jannia told her. "Oh, he spends lots of time with just me on the ship," Akaril said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He won't mind. He likes you." And this is an empathic child?Jannia thought.Damned selective about it, isn't she? "You are welcome to join us, Pale One," Emarr said, his gaze fixed on her, dark and unreadable. "Perhaps we can revisit the place where we met." Yes, that would be a wonderful plan. Emarr can tell his little girl the heartwarming story of how I put him in a coma for three days. Is he insane?"I don't think so." "You've got to come!" Akaril insisted. She reached for Jannia's hand to tug her up out of the chair. The movement was so sudden and unexpected Jannia had no time to react. Akaril's hand closed over hers, small and warm and surprisingly strong. Jannia stared down at the small green fingers entwined with her own. Emarr reached out to pull the child away. As her fingers slipped from Akaril's grip, Jannia felt abruptly and strangely bereft. The touch had lasted less than a second, but there had been no fear. Only an odd pleasant warmth that seemed to have emanated from the child. The child herself had appeared wholly oblivious to the phenomenon. "Perhaps Captain Wise wishes to be alone, my small one," Emarr said, guiding Akaril gently but firmly away. "Wait," Jannia said, surprised to hear the words coming from her own mouth. "Maybe I'll come along after all." * * * The "secret" parts of the spa, as Akaril had called them, were further up the mountain, located along a narrow trail that meandered along more or less the same path as one of the streams that fed the lake. Even when Emarr could not see the water, he could hear its bright, bubbling rush. It had always reminded him of a woman's laughter. Jannia was not laughing as she trudged along beside Akaril, but neither was she making any of the biting comments with which she kept others at arm's length. In fact, she said little, letting the child carry the weight of the conversation. A task that Akaril was managing admirably. Emarr walked behind them, content to listen to Akaril's bright chatter and Jannia's occasional quiet reply. He knew Jannia must feel awkward around him after last night. It surprised him that she had let Akaril talk her into accompanying them. Emarr frowned, an uncomfortable suspicion nibbling at the corners of his mind. Surely she would not use deliberate coercion just to get her own way, not given the bitter lesson of what had happened to her "uncle." But what if she had done so unknowingly? "Hey, look over there!" Akaril scampered off the path, Jannia darting after her. "Wait, kid!" Jannia called as Emarr dashed to catch up with them. "You can't always see from the path if-" Jannia stopped in her tracks, so suddenly that Emarr had to backstep to avoid running into her. A low stone wall surrounded the deep room-sized bath. From the path, a person immersed in the steaming, fragrant water would be all but invisible. It was only on closer approach that one would notice the head, and then the shoulders, of the bather. By which time she would already have spotted one... This time, the bath was empty. Akaril had scrambled up onto the wall, and was inching her way along it, arms outstretched for balance. Emarr dashed to her side and plucked her off. "Do not do that," he said. "You will fall in the water." Akaril scowled at him. She glanced around her. Four ornate stoneware urns, each filled with bright growing blossoms, marked the four corners of the bath. Three of them were identical, etched with stylized representations of birds and butterflies. The fourth- "Kavay, why is that one different?" Akaril asked, pointing. Someone had tried to duplicate the shattered urn, but it was clear that this one was done by a very different artisan. The birds and butterflies seemed less abstract, more real, and the color of the glaze used was richer and deeper. Emarr could not help thinking that the replacement was an improvement over the original. Jannia, who had been standing very still in the exact spot where she had stopped, said, "A long time ago, someone who was bathing here broke the fourth urn-ah-by accident. She made the new one herself to replace it." "It's nicer than the other ones," Akaril said, echoing Emarr's own feelings. Jannia moved closer, slowly, as if some powerful force was drawing her, but she resisted. As she came to the wall, she reached out with tentative fingers to brush the urn's smooth glazed surface. Emarr moved close to her side. "You are a skilled artisan, Pale One." Jannia shook her head. "I used to dabble. That's all. Gave it up years ago. This one isn't really my style, but I was trying to make it match the others. Didn't even get that much right." "It is beautiful," Emarr said quietly. "Like its maker." Jannia snorted, shaking her head. "Did the doctors check your optic nerve, after?" Emarr opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a rhythmic thumping noise. He glanced over to see Akaril, back up on the wall-ledge but at least seated this time, kicking her booted little feet against the stones. "Can we go now?" she asked. "I want to see the shrine." Emarr stepped away from Jannia. "The shrine is another half-hour's walk up the mountain," Emarr warned. "If you do not take the opportunity to rest your legs now, do not expect me to carry you later." "I know," Akaril said a little too quickly, and Emarr knew he would be carrying the child before ten minutes had passed. "Come, then," Emarr said, taking Akaril's hands as she hopped down off the wall. "We will see the shrine, and then it will be time to return to the restaurant for supper." * * * The day hadn't been as bad as she'd expected, Jannia thought later, watching from the doorway as Emarr tucked the already-sleeping Akaril into the bunk set into her cabin wall. There had been an awkwardness between them, but Akaril had been like a buffer, diffusing the tension with her childish chatter and blithely self-centered demands. Emarr straightened, after smoothing the soft blue blanket in place over his daughter's sleeping body, and turned to face Jannia. "I had not expected you to stay," he said. Jannia shrugged. "If you want me to go, I will." Emarr shook his head. "I would like you to stay. I regret the clumsy way I handled things last night. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you." "I think you already have." Jannia gestured toward Akaril. "I like her. I didn't think I liked kids. Not that I've been around many." "Kids, as you call them, are no more all alike than any other group of beings," Emarr said. "To say you do not like children is like saying you do not like Tarenash, or Olaret-" "Or men?" Jannia finished. "Or men," Emarr agreed. "Do you truly want to stay? I can makedasu, and we can talk." Talk. In some ways, the prospect intimidated her more than the thought of going to bed with him had. She stared past him, at Akaril's slumbering form. She looked so peaceful, so innocent. As if no harm had ever touched her young life, though Jannia knew this was not true. "What is she?" Jannia asked, wondering even as she spoke where the words had come from. "She is a child of my race. She is the daughter of my heart. She is also aKinya-d'sar. An empath more powerful than I could ever hope to be. When she grows up, she will be a great healer." Jannia rubbed at her hand, where Akaril had touched it earlier. "When she grows up." "You felt something." There was something in Emarr's eyes, something dark and knowing that filled Jannia with reflexive unease. "When she touched you." Jannia nodded. "I didn't mind her touching me. I was never tempted to pull my hand away, not even for a moment. And then, there was this warmth. A moment later I was asking to go with you." Emarr closed his eyes and shook his head, sighing. "She influenced you." She definitely didn't like the resignation in his tone. He'd known. Suspected. Whatever. "Influenced me? Influenced me how? You mean like mind control?" "We are not merely receptive empaths, Pale One. We can broadcast our feelings as well. Akaril wanted you to accompany us. She imprinted that desire on you. I am sorry. For what it is worth, I do not think it was a conscious act." "Then I only came with you-only let her touch me-because she-influenced me to." Bitter disappointment gave Jannia's voice a harsh edge. "I was right before. I don't like kids." "She only wanted to reach out to you," Emarr chided. "She did not know what she was doing." "So sure of that, are you?" "Trust me. She is capable of it, but there is nothing she would be more reluctant to do. I believe that if she had known she would be horrified." "I see." She was sure he believed it. But kids were notorious for acting on what they wanted, and not thinking about the consequences until it was too late. She'd heard that complaint from her mother often enough, back when her mother still cared. She looked down at the child. Such a remarkable little girl. A healer, Emarr had said. An empathic healer, and a strong one. Having felt the child's power, she believed it. "Where are you going when you leave here?" Jannia asked, without taking her eyes off Akaril. "To Settlan," Emarr answered. "There is a Densharite colony there. Densharites who have completed their developmental acceleration programs but not yet reached physical maturity have been known to hire themselves out as companions to normal children from time to time. And many of them have empathic gifts of their own, courtesy of Shian-ru blood." Jannia nodded acknowledgement. "Then I'll be going to Settlan too. You were right, Emarr. I do need time to get to know you. To feel comfortable with you." Emarr's eyes met hers, speculation gleaming in their depths. "Is it me you wish to spend more time with," he asked, "or my daughter?" CHAPTER 4 ========= Jannia sat sipping inferior grade Tarenash whisky in a corner booth in the same bar she and Vaia used to come to whenever they were on Miakar. The place was under new management again, she noted. They always tried to make it look nice at first, with a new coat of paint and a few plants hanging from the ceiling. The change of owners must have been relatively recent, because there were no blaster scorches marring the fresh cream-colored paint, and the plants were still alive. But the new owners would soon realize what Jannia would have told them if they'd asked her. There was no way to make a spacer's hangout into anything but a spacer's hangout. About the only way to get rid of the old clientele was to burn the place down-and even then you'd better not build another bar on the same spot. With a smuggler's experienced eyes she scanned the crowd, hoping to spot one person who looked and moved like he was here on her kind of business. One week. She had given herself one week here on Miakar, and then she would continue on to Settlan and her rendezvous with Emarr. Miakar was on a direct route between Beckhaven Station and the Settlan system. It was more of a pit stop than an actual detour. And it would probably take Emarr a lot longer than a week to find a suitable nanny for a child who could "influence" people. No, Jannia was definitely not avoiding her meeting with Emarr Dengas. Or Akaril Dengas. No Dengas-avoiding going on. Miakar was pretty typical for a mixed-species colony dating back to the Kovarin Protectorate era. That is, it was polluted, overpopulated, crime-ridden and depressing. Jannia ought to have no trouble arranging a basic transport contract here. There were always people looking for a quick way off Miakar. Preferably with no questions asked. Except, apparently, tonight. Lots of amorous couples hanging all over each other, and an even more abundant supply of obnoxious men in search of someone to hang all over-men who seemed to think any woman sitting by herself was volunteering for the job. But no one with that shifty, furtive, but somehow hopeful look that meant the possibility of credits to be made. Jannia took a sip of her drink and grimaced. The stuff had a tendency to settle. Unless you drank fast it got stronger and more disgusting toward the bottom of the glass. She pushed it away. This was a waste of her time. She had other things to do here on Miakar besides sit in a bar and stare at faces. Female tasks to be accomplished that she'd never had to worry about before. Just how did one go about asking a strange doctor for a birth control implant? Then again, maybe she should wait on that one. She hadn't thought to ask Emarr if his species was even genetically compatible with Humans. And who knew how long it would be before he decided they knew each other well enough for compatible biologies to be an issue? "Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?" Jannia looked up into a face that might have been molded from pure terracotta clay. The Amardel had short straight hair the color of cinnamon and the smooth, unlined features that on a Human would have meant extreme youth. On him, it just meant he was an Amardel. "No, and I like it that way," Jannia said. The Amardel slipped into the seat across from her as if she hadn't spoken. "I know who you are," he said. "You were Vaialora Kondi's partner. Word is you've left her." Jannia didn't miss the sneering innuendo in his voice. It made her skin crawl. Not the innuendo itself-that was so ridiculous anyone else would have laughed out loud-but the attitudes it revealed. Attitudes that reminded her too much of someone else. She moved her arm out of his reach and leaned back in her seat. "I know who you are, too, Rogai.Hard Luck, Mercala registry. Wanted for smuggling guns, drugs, snuff porn- -some of which, it's rumored, was the real thing. Not to mention non-consenting sentients." "That's me," Rogai confirmed. "Unlike some people, I don't pretend to be something other than what I am. A smuggler. A criminal. I certainly wouldn't sign a piece of paper restricting what kind of cargoes I can run just to get a berth at some out-of-the-way station where potential clients aren't even welcome. Or turn down perfectly good contracts because someone made me sign such a paper while I still had a whole damned hydroponic garden behind my ears." "Is there a point to this?" Jannia said. "You've never fit in at Beckhaven," Rogai said. "You have a real edge. Real potential. Why let hypocritical fools like that whore Vaia Kondi hold you back?" "You're recruiting for someone," Jannia realized. Rogai shrugged. "Good money in recruiting, and I can use it," he said. "Got my ship impounded a while back. My accounts too. Would have got myself impounded if I hadn't been a quicker draw than the PA drones." "I feel your pain," Jannia sneered. "But just because I've gone independent doesn't mean I'm leaving Beckhaven. I like having a home station where the regulars watch each other's backs instead of trying to stab them." "Like Locke and Kondi watched your back the night Tral Gandes carved out your eye? Yeah, Beckhaveners take really good care of each other. If those two had taken care of each other a little longer you wouldn't be here." The nerves behind Jannia's synthorg eye spasmed in memory. Her jaw clenched. "Station security got a lot stricter after that." "Right. Now they keep the rapists out and the hypocrites in-no, wait. Kondi's still in, isn't she? Nobody seemed to care whatshe did to Gandes-" "What hemade her do to him, you mean. Sabotaged his own ship to ensure she'd be alone with him long enough-" "Now, Wise, there was never any proof of that. Engines do sometimes malfunction all on their own." "If Vaia hadwanted to make a man sexually dependent on her, she'd have chosen somebody she actually wanted. She sure as hell wouldn't have left him the first chance she got-what would be the point?" Jannia took a too-large swallow of her drink, trying to wash the sour taste from her mouth, and instantly regretted it.Not an improvement. "And just for the record, if this is an example of your usual recruitment technique you should have that new ship paid for by sometime in the next millennium." "Maybe. Maybe not. The truth hurts, but that just makes it harder to ignore." Rogai reached into his pocket and handed Jannia a datacard. "Here's the address my boss is using while she's here. If you want a clean break and a chance to make somereal money, give her a call. If you still want to squeak along following Beckhaven rules and die young and poor..." he shrugged. "Think about it, Wise." Jannia pocketed the card without looking at it. "If that's what it takes to get rid of you." Rogai got up, and extended a hand. "To the hope of a future association, then." Jannia stared at the hand for a moment, then got up and brushed past Rogai without a backward glance. * * * Jannia sat in the captain's seat on theIce Dagger , staring at the card. It was a standard business card for a local hotel, a good one if the prices scrolling down the larger side- screen were any indication. The smaller screen located under the hotel's logo was text-locked, showing only a room number and comm code. It didn't even give a name. She'd been planning to toss the card into the recycler. Instead, she'd been sitting here staring at it for over an hour. To leave Beckhaven Station. To cut ties with the place that had been the closest thing she had to a home her entire adult life. The thought had never occurred to her. Not even when she'd finally accepted the painful necessity of ending her partnership with Vaia-not because she blamed Vaia for what had happened, but because her constant presence made it impossible to forget. And yet, why not? If she really wanted to start over, didn't it make sense to make a clean break? To start over somewhere where no one knew or remembered what had happened to her. Jannia shook her head and sighed. If Rogai was any indication, no such place existed. Not as long as she wanted to stay in the business, anyway. But damn it, she was curious. Even if she had no intention of contracting with whomever Rogai was working for, it couldn't hurt to check things out. If nothing else, it was always good to keep track of what the competition was up to. Jannia reached for the comm panel in front of her and keyed in the contact code. She was not surprised to see the default screen come up, indicating that the contact had blocked the image transmission on his or her end. She had done the same thing. Nor was she surprised at the obviously distorted voice issuing from her comm speakers. "Hello. What can I do for you?" "Azaran Rogai gave me your card," Jannia answered. "He said you were looking to contract a few good pilots." "I might be." Jannia strained to hear the nuances the voice distortion attempted to obscure, to get some idea as to the nature of the voice, young or old, Human or other. But it was impossible. She would run the transmission through the computer later, but the best voice- alterations systems on the market these days were virtually computer-proof. Jannia frowned. She didn't like working blind. That altered voice could belong to anyone. "I want to see your face," she demanded. "I want to hear your real voice." "You first," said the contact. Jannia shook her head, then realized what a pointless gesture that was with the visual interface blocked."You first,my ass. What are we, six-year-olds? You could be a synthesized voice on a Port Authority computer for all I know, and the address on your card might be where the nice officers are waiting to spring their little smuggler trap. We meet face-to- face, on neutral ground. The same bar where your buddy Rogai does his recruiting." "Agreed. But I'll need your visual ID to find you." "No way. You can get my description from Rogai. If that's not good enough, you'll just have to look elsewhere." There was a long pause at the other end of the connection. Finally, the contact answered. "All right. Two hours from now. Be there." The comm screen went black. Jannia leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She'd only come here to do some quick business and take care of some necessary preparations for her rendezvous with Emarr. She certainly hadn't expected to find herself contemplating such a major change. If she left Beckhaven, if she accepted the possibility of working outside that organization's rules, would Emarr even want to continue their association? Despite his comfort with technology, he was still very much the son of his primitive homeworld. His sense of honor, his dedication to a religious code she would probably never understand, might seem quaint and old-fashioned to her, but to him they were very real. Might he reject her if he saw her as having betrayed her principles? And if he did, how long might it take her to find another man who cared for her as he did? Enough to do what she asked of him without requiring anything in return, until she could learn to feel again? It was only a meeting, Jannia reminded herself. She had not committed to anything. Nor would she, if she didn't like what she found out. She was willing to consider abandoning her Beckhaven contract, but not her own conscience. She set the datacard down on the comm console and stood up. She had preparations to make for this meeting. And the first of them was to look as little as possible like the description Rogai would give of her. She'd been planning a makeover, anyway. * * * "I hate shopping," Jannia told the sales clerk bluntly. "But even more than shopping, I hate intrusive sales clerks. I'll find what I want on my own, and then I'll pay for it, and until then I want to be left alone. Got it?" The clerk regarded Jannia's gaunt black-clad form as ifshe knew there was a concealed weapon on her somewhere. After a long moment she nodded. Jannia smiled to herself, a smile that didn't actually reach her lips. If only she could deal with Dorcia Henner back on Beckhaven that easily. It was harder to intimidate a store proprietor who had been a bounty hunter. Jannia quickly thumbed through the racks of clothing, scanning the tags for anything available in her size. She pulled out everything she found, draping it over her arm; she'd sort through it later. She could feel the sales clerk's suspicious gaze, but ignored it. Finally, her arm so loaded down she couldn't hold any more, Jannia headed for the dressing cubicles. The clerk cut in front of her. "Three outfits at a time." Jannia met the clerk's gaze with an icy stare of her own. "Store policy," the clerk said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Jannia sighed and shoved the bulk of the pile into the clerk's arms. "Hold these, then." She ducked into the changing room. It took three visits to the changing room to try on all the outfits. Four turned out to be acceptable-comfortable, not too frilly, and different enough from her usual attire. She paid for them, then set off in search of the nearest aesthetic technician. There was nothing that could be done about her gaunt build on short notice, but her coloring and hairstyle were another story. * * * Jannia deliberately took her seat on the far side of the tavern from where she usually sat, and scanned the crowd. She still had over half an hour until the appointed time for the rendezvous, thanks to a very large bribe paid to the cosmetic technician to take swift care of her. Jannia detested preening even more than she hated shopping. She'd had to grind her teeth until her jaw ached just to force herself to tolerate the technician's intrusive touch on her hair, her skin. But he'd done his job well. Her skin was now several shades darker, her hair a rich chestnut brown and slightly curly, cut in a softer, less blunt style than it had been. Her makeup, usually non-existent, was carefully applied to make her features look softer and fuller. Her first thought, as she glanced in the technician's mirror, was that she looked like Merilee O'Hare-if O'Hare were about a hundred pounds lighter and didn't wear her hair so long. She'd have to get that fixed before-she bit off the thought, half-finished.Let's get through thismeeting before we worry aboutthatone. Jannia knew her contact on sight, the second she stepped in the door. She didn't know quite how she knew. There was nothing furtive in the way the woman moved. There was confidence in her walk, in the set of her shoulders. Confidence, and an unabashed sensuality that made Jannia shudder with discomfort. Every male eye in the place, and a few female, turned to look at the woman, some with quick furtive glances, others openly gawking. She was a tall voluptuous redhead, her creamy fair skin and rich dark eyes unencumbered by cosmetics. Dressed simply in a form-fitting sleeveless coverall, she let her face and her body speak for themselves. Her gaze skated toward Jannia's usual table, and the young Tarenash pair, a couple or set of twins, who occupied it. A scowl distorted her too-perfect features. She slinked toward the bar, and a hundred pairs of eyes followed her progress. Did the contact have to be someone who made Vaialora Kondi look like a celibate cleric? Jannia took a quick, bracing sip of her drink, wishing she'd ordered something stronger. You can still back out of this,she reminded herself.That was the whole point of changing your appearance. She shook her head. She had made a pact with herself not to let her discomfort with sexuality, hers or others', rule her life any more. There might be lots of reasons not to pursue this opportunity, but she couldn't let that be one of them. She slipped from her seat and approached the bar. "Looking for someone?" Jannia asked as she came up beside the other woman. The redhead glanced sideways at her. "I might be." "You don't look like a Port Authority plant," Jannia said. "You look like a high-priced playmate-for-hire." Jannia's remark had been calculated to irritate, but the redhead only laughed. "If you're Captain Jannia Wise, you have a strange way of starting a contract negotiation." "We're not negotiating yet. You haven't yet given me even the most basic information, such as what you need a pilot for." The redhead shrugged. "A simple business arrangement. You would retain autonomy in almost every way, but I would expect you to be on call for the occasional freelance contract. That's all." Jannia's eyes narrowed. "What sort of freelance contract?" The redhead shot her a hard look. "Do you really expect me to go into details here? I agreed to make the original meeting on your terms, and then changed your description so you could back out, if necessary, without my seeing you. This does not inspire my trust, Captain Wise." Her voice was low and as smooth as melted butter. "Listen," Jannia snapped back. "You approached me. It's you who has to win my trust if we're going to do business." The redhead shook her head. "You act as though I set out to recruit you specifically. I sent Rogai trolling. You were simply the first to take the bait. I wasn't sanguine about meeting with someone associated with the infamously holier-than-thou Beckhaven Station crowd. Rogai assured me you were different from the others. Harder." Jannia shrugged. "Most at Beckhaven would agree with him. Not that they'd put it so politely." "Maybe. I prefer to make my own judgments." Jannia stared down at a small wet ring on the bar, where someone's glass had briefly rested. She reached out to drag her finger through it, drawing trails of liquid outward to create a starburst pattern. "What does your judgment tell you about me?" The woman looked at her appraisingly. "You're a cool one. Hard to read. But you're not with Kondi anymore. You've cut the apron strings. That tells me you might be ready to play with the big girls now." "You know how to spin an unflattering metaphor, don't you?" Jannia said. "Tell you what. I'll consider meeting with you privately when you balance the scales. You know who I am. My name. My reputation. I know nothing about you." "You might be surprised." There was cold amusement in the redhead's voice as she extended a hand. "My name is Ziala McGann. I believe we have what might loosely be termed a mutual friend." "A mutual friend." Jannia managed a casual disinterest in spite of the small meteor that had just punched a nice big crater in her stomach.This is it. The proof I've been looking for. The universe really is conspiring against me. "Don't bother trying to pretend my name's not familiar. It's well-known that everyone on Beckhaven Station knows everyone else's business." Oh, Ziala McGann's name was familiar, all right. The story of how she'd lost Emarr Dengas in a card game to Ryan O'Hare was the stuff of, if not legends, at least the odd ribald yarn. O'Hare had been blackmailed into wagering his ship against Dengas's person by his sister, who had the kind of dirt on him only a sister could have. A sister who figured Dengas would be happier as a free man in her bed than as a slave in McGann's. Dengas, ingrate that he was, had rewarded his rescuer by falling in love with Jannia instead. "If you're talking about Emarr Dengas," she said, "I'd hardly call him a friend. A nuisance, an irritant, maybe even a stalker. But not a friend." "A stalker." The label seemed to amuse McGann. "That's what I'd call a man who singles out a woman who's not interested and follows her around at every opportunity." Though he hadn't followed her around, not really. Just made polite small talk with her whenever their paths happened to cross, and looked at her with those warm, longing eyes when he thought she wasn't watching him. "Other women don't seem to mind. He's acquired quite a reputation with the women, my old slave has. Not that I'm surprised. He always was an incredible lover." Her gaze flicked to Jannia. Speculative. Appraising. Jannia kept her face impassive, revealing nothing of the emotions churning beneath the surface. Distaste. Dislike. A clawing queasiness at the thought of Emarr in that woman's arms. It wasn't jealousy, she told herself. "I'm surprised you still keep track of him after all these years." "Let's just say I have my reasons for doing so." Ziala took a long, thoughtful sip of her drink. "I almost didn't meet with you because of your connection with him. Rogai found it funny- -recruiting the woman Dengas fancies, for this." She frowned, creasing those too-perfect features, as though realizing she'd almost said too much. "Rogai's sense of humor is one of the principal reasons he will never rise higher than recruiter." "Then it's a good thing I don't have one." Jannia toyed with her starburst pattern, turning its straight-line rays into little wet triangles. Dengas has been looking for this woman for years. She all but dropped off the star charts after she lost him-but not before old Vargas died a very nasty death. Now she's back just as Dengas finds a little green kid on Doravi. Doesn't take a genius like Kerra Locke to figure out the connection. She couldn't believe she was sitting here, face to face with the bitch who'd sold Akaril to that bastard Burkeholt. And that bitch was trying torecruit her. "If this is about what I think it's about," she said, "it's the biggest taboo on the whole Beckhaven charter. I wouldn't just lose my station clearance; I'd have half my old friends gunning for me. The pay had better be good." "That, and more, will be discussed when and if you agree to a private meeting. I grow very tired of your lame attempts to draw me out here. I'm two seconds from walking out of here, and if I do, I take this opportunity with me. It will not be offered again." Jannia nodded. "I think I know enough. Let's go, then." She made to slide off her seat. "Not so fast," Ziala said. "I'm not finished my drink yet." * * * "Are you ready?" Akaril regarded her father solemnly across the circle he had etched into the cargo bay floor with a low-powered welding laser. "Ready, Kavay." "Then focus on the light." In the center of the circle burned a portable lantern scavenged from the ship's emergency supplies. A real meditation fire was out of the question. The hold's fire suppression system would douse it instantly. Akaril obediently turned her attention to the lantern. "Good," Emarr said. "Now think of somewhere you feel calm. Peaceful. Somewhere you feel quiet inside. Imagine you are in that place." "I'm at the spa," she said immediately. "At the pool. Captain Wise is there." "Imagine you are alone." "I don't like being alone." Emarr suppressed a frustrated sigh. "All right. Captain Wise is there. But she is being very, very quiet, and so are you. I want you to think about the pool. See it in your mind. Hear the water flowing in the stream, just on the other side of the trees." "It's night time there." "Do not speak out loud. Just imagine it in your mind." "Is that boy who was here today going to help you take care of me? I don't like him." "Focus on the exercise, please. You are at the pool. You cannot ask me questions because I am not there. Only Captain Wise is there, and she is being very quiet." "But I can hear you." Gods, give me strength,Emarr thought. "Pretend you cannot. You are alone at the pool-you and Captain Wise, who is being very, very quiet. It is night there, and you can hear the water flowing in the distance. You feel calm. Peaceful. Quiet inside. Do you feel it?" No answer. Not even a nod. "Akaril?" "I'm pretending I can't hear you." "Forget I said that. Just please, focus on my instructions. Are you calm?" "I think so." "Good. Now breathe, slowly and deeply, the way I am breathing. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. Just like this." He demonstrated for several long deep breaths, probably more than were necessary to show her the way of it. By this time, he needed the calming breaths more than she did. "Yes, that is right. Keep breathing, just so." He brushed against her mind, sensing that the breathing and the visualization were doing their job, calming and centering her, easing her into a meditative state. Not a perfect one-her agile little mind jumped too easily from one thing to another, making it a wonder she could maintain any focus at all. "Now reach out your mind for mine. Do not leave the pool, but reach out for me and bring me there, to your side. Do you feel me with you?" He did not need her nod to know that she did. He could feel her spirit in his, the sweet wild warmth that was the soul of a child. In his mind he saw the pool in darkness, lit only by moonlight shining through the trees. A familiar scene, but one Akaril would never have seen. Where had she got the image? Their people could only transmit emotion, or sensation, but he was clearly seeing the pool as it had been the night he'd met Jannia Wise. Perhaps it was simply his own mind interpreting Akaril's words, calling up his own image of the pool at night. He could see Jannia there, as he had before. She had her back to him, only her head and shoulders visible in silhouette. In a moment she would turn. In a moment she would see him- "Kavay?" Deliberately, he turned his mind away from Jannia's image and focused his physical eyes on his child. "Now. While our minds are touching. Reach out to me. I am thinking of an action, something silly, something that will make you laugh." "What is it? Show me." He shook his head. "I do not want to.You must convince me. Reach out with to me with your feelings. Make meeager to do this." Akaril's eyes widened, blank with shock and horror, and only through his link with her was he able to calm her, to hold her in the meditative state. There was an element of suggestion; ofthis will be fun! to his efforts, and it startled her, making her eyes go wider still. "It is all right. There is no harm in it if it is done with my consent. A little thing, funny and harmless. You will laugh so hard when you see-but first I must want to show you." She shook her head frantically, struggling against his influence. "No! I can't! Kavay, don't make me. Please. I can't. Please!" He released her, erupting from his side of the circle to swoop across, knocking the lantern aside, and sweep her small body into his arms. "I am sorry. So sorry." "Why would you make me do that?" Akaril's voice was cracked and sullen with hurt. To learn how it feels, how strong the compulsion is. To helpyoulearn how it feels, how to recognize and control it. But how to explain that without frightening you? Gods, I cannot do this. I do not know how. "The ability is part of you, my small one. You must learn how and when to use it, as well as how and when not to." "I never want to use it.Never. If you try to make me I'll run away. I'll run away and this time you won't find me." The fierce vehemence of her soft words tore at his heart. "All right. I will not ask that of you again. We will attempt the meditation another time, without it." * * * Ziala's hotel was every bit as posh as the prices on her datacard had indicated. The furnishings in the lobby alone would have cost more than every stick of furniture on all of Beckhaven Station. Ziala's was a penthouse suite, accessible by private elevator. As Jannia stepped onto that elevator, the back of her neck prickled with anxiety. Not just from the discomfort of being enclosed in a small cubicle with someone with a powerful and intrusive physical presence-Ziala's only saving grace was that at least she wasn't male-but at the situation in which she was placing herself. From this moment on, she walked on glass. Glass that could shatter under her, ripping her to shreds as she fell, at the collapse of just one lie. But damn it, she needed more to bring Dengas than just her suspicions. She needed concrete details. Concrete evidence, if possible. The elevator opened on a large sitting area decorated in the latest Miakaran style, with plenty of sleek metal and real, breakable glass. The sofa and chairs were upholstered in a slick- looking silvery fabric, their clean-lined form adding to the sleek, early Kovarin-era look. This, Jannia noted almost unconsciously-a smuggler's instinct, to evaluate one's surroundings in a single, thorough sweep of awareness no matter what the distractions. Her full, conscious attention was fixed on- Emarr!Recognition was instant, powerful, laden with powerful, conflicting emotions. It was also, she realized almost immediately, mistaken. The man was large, attractive and green, his racial resemblance to Dengas unmistakable, but at second glance, she wondered how she could possibly have confused them. The deep, rich black fabric of the old-fashioned servant's livery buttoned primly all the way up to his neck should have been enough to tell her the difference. It looked out of place in this room-but not on this man. With his straight, almost rigid back and mercilessly combed-back hair, he looked as un-Dengaslike as it was possible to look and still be the same shade of green. Even his eyes were different. Emarr and Akaril both had brown eyes, rich and warm and expressive. This man's were a cold steel gray and revealed nothing. He stood in the middle of the room, his gaze fixed on the two women, his hands behind his back. There was a blaster clipped to his wide leather belt. "Dumal," Ziala introduced, her voice coming from behind Jannia. "My bodyguard, among other things." There was a rich sensuality in her voice as she spoke the last few words. Jannia's shoulders tensed. She moved further into the room, placing distance between herself and Ziala as she turned to face her. She hated having anyone so close behind her. Dumal's eyes tracked her movements. His hands remained clasped behind his back, but she was very aware of his blaster. "Dumal, this is Captain Wise. A business associate, or at least a potential one. Bring us some refreshments." Dumal's gaze settled appraisingly on Jannia for a moment, as if evaluating whether or not it would be safe to leave his mistress alone with her. His lips pressed together in what might or might not be a frown. Then without a sound, he walked from the room. "Charming man," Jannia said. "Brilliant conversationalist." Ziala smiled a shark's smile. "I think he's under some sort of vow of silence. I've had him for years, and never heard him talk except in his sleep. Even then it isn't in Galactic and what words I understand make little sense." "Then how do you know his name?" "I don't. Not his real name. I named him after a cat I used to have. He comes when I call him by it, which is more than the cat ever did." Dumal returned, carrying a tray of assorted drinks that he set down on a low table between two chairs. He straightened and resumed the same stance he'd affected when Jannia first entered. "Sit," Ziala said, gesturing to one of the chairs while she took the other. "Help yourself." Jannia selected a glass at random with no intention of actually drinking from it. She didn't sit. Wouldn't, in the same room with Dumal and his blaster. It would give him an unfair advantage on the draw. Ziala frowned, but did not press the issue. "Dumal is my sixth personal slave since Emarr Dengas. Most of the others I sold off after a few months. A few didn't live long. Low resistance to alien bacteria and all that. One stupid bastard took his own life. Dumal was worth waiting for, though. He was some sort of monk on his homeworld. Very disciplined, very controlled. But a powerful empath, one of the most powerful I've encountered. The sex is mind-blowing. Of course, you've never had an empath." "If you know as much about my history as you seem to, you'll know I'm not in the habit ofhaving men at all." She studied Dumal discreetly. A powerful empath. As powerful as Akaril? She would have to keep a very tight cap on her emotions. Had she already revealed too much? Ziala nodded. "At least you will not be tempted to keep any of the merchandise for yourself." "The merchandise. Meaning beings like him. Sentients. Slaves." Ziala nodded. "They're wonderfully useful beings. Great for gauging the reactions of potential business associates." She grinned at the sudden narrowing of Jannia's eyes. "Also for influencing those reactions. And in bed-" She ran a sensual tongue along the edge of her lip. "I'm tempted to loan you Dumal for a few hours just to show you what you're missing. I assure you, your unfortunate inhibitions would not get in the way. Dumal is more than capable of takingcontrol of the situation." She regarded the man with hungry fondness from under her lashes. Jannia barely managed to suppress a shudder. "I prefer to remain in control of myself, thank you. If I'd wanted to sleep with a being like this, I could have had Emarr Dengas whenever I wanted him." She refused to let herself feel her own bitter sense of irony at that lie.Smugness. That's the ticket. "So are you interested? In a business relationship, I mean." "Let's just say I'm ready to negotiate now. Show me what you have." Ziala set down her drink and got to her feet. "I have one piece of merchandise ready for delivery to a client on Crossroads Station. Let me show you." She led Jannia down a long corridor to a room at the very far end. Dumal brought up the rear, his huge male presence at her back making Jannia's spine crawl with unease. The door slid open, revealing a room that might once have been luxurious, but had been so stripped down as to be little more than an unusually large prison cell. The color of the walls, carpet, and bedding were still those of the early Kovarin-era style, but the metal-and-glass furnishings were absent, as indeed was everything except the bed. A bed on which huddled a trembling, barely clothed girl, thin and battered, her hands and feet encased in the smooth metal cuffs of magni-binders. The girl shouted something defiant-sounding in a language Jannia did not understand. Her tear-filled eyes burned with hatred as she glared at Ziala, but the burst of emotion that reached Jannia across the room was not anger, but terror liberally mixed with despair. Jannia drew in a deep, hissing breath and tried to shield herself, to block the onslaught of the girl's broadcast emotions. Not as strong as Akaril, Jannia thought. Probably not even as strong as Emarr. But she was just as green. "She ought to be in stasis," she heard herself say. "What's the point of binders, except to scare her more? She can't kill herself that way, but she can still break a bone trying to get out of them." "She will have to get used to them at some point," was Ziala's cool response. "Let the client worry about that," Jannia answered. "He might not be willing to pay if she's damaged." "This one will," Ziala predicted smugly. The room suddenly felt about thirty degrees colder. "Not the full fee," Jannia predicted. "There are always risks when a living being is placed in stasis," Ziala said. "I would rather that our client receive the girl with a broken arm than dead. The magni-binders stay on. If you choose to take the contract, you can take them off her yourself at your own risk. But the merchandise is not to be put in stasis." As they spoke, the girl had slowly gone very still. Now Jannia could feel her gaze like an almost physical pressure. But no more emotion leaked from the girl; she was back in control of herself now. Or was it Dumal who was in control of her? Jannia looked at the girl. She was young, no older than Jannia had been when Gandes raped her. Her hair was a brighter green than Emarr's, like fine jade, and her skin was the soft shade of oxidized copper. There were subtle differences in the shape of her features, as well. Same species, different race? "How many of these beings have you placed?" Jannia asked. "About fifty, I'd say," Ziala answered. "Only one or two a year at first, but now I'm up to nine or ten. Still, it's necessary to be discreet. Right now, I'm the only one who knows the location of their homeworld. I'd like to keep that monopoly as long as possible. If the planet's location were known, some do-gooder species like the Tarenash might decide to make it a protectorate, and then where would I be?" "But no one can make a protectorate out of a planet no one can find," Jannia filled in. "Exactly," said Ziala in a voice that exuded satisfaction. "And what's my cut of the profits?" Jannia asked. "Twenty percent." "Twenty percent of what?" Ziala named a figure that would have paid for theIce Daggerthree times over. "Twenty-five percent," Jannia countered. "Half that in advance, half on successful delivery." "Done." Ziala said. She extended a hand. Jannia swallowed her revulsion and shook Ziala's hand, calculating exactly how long she needed to maintain contact to avoid the appearance of insult. The touch made her feel contaminated. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her pants. "Deliver the girl to my ship first thing tomorrow morning," she said. "I hope she's the first of many." CHAPTER 5 ========= She has changed her mind. The certainty grew inside Emarr with each day that passed, scraping at the edge of his mind like a dull stone blade, wearing his soul raw. Jannia's fear had proved too strong. Once, just once, she had summoned up the courage to come to him, to ask him for what she thought she needed, and he had rebuffed her. Now, he might never have another chance to show her the depth and the power of what he felt for her. Never have another chance to find out if his love could have healed her. But no matter how many times he went over it in his mind, he still could not shake his conviction that bedding Jannia that night would have been the worst mistake he could have made. It was Emarr's sixth night on Settlan. As he tucked Akaril tenderly into her narrow wall berth and kissed her smooth brow, he knew it was almost time to leave. He had had no luck finding her a Densharite companion, and without someone to watch her while he trolled the usual meeting spots, doing any business was impossible. Perhaps he would have better luck elsewhere. The last of the interviews had been today. The youngest girl yet, not even ten years old, she had sneered openly at his offer of five percent of his earnings plus a partitioned-off corner of the cargo hold for her quarters. She had stalked off the ship in a huff, leaving Emarr blinking from the glare of the ship's lights reflected off the crystals braided into her lavender-dyed hair. He had known finding someone willing to care for a professional smuggler's empathic child would be a challenge, but there was only a narrow gap separating "challenging" from "impossible", and Emarr was beginning to think he was standing on the wrong side of it. At least he was beginning to learn to shield his worries from the child. She had snuggled into the blankets and dropped off to sleep in moments, which she would not have done if plagued by his second-hand concerns. Her presence was forcing him to develop his somewhat erratic skills, to learn balance and control. He ran a strand of her silky, bottle green hair through his fingers. Such a little, vulnerable being. It honored and humbled him that the gods had given her into his care. He had long ago resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never sire a child. His chemistry was too different from that of other humanoid races. If Jannia was his destined mate, as he believed, then Akaril might well be the only child he would have. A child who was not his to keep. He slipped quietly out of Akaril's cabin, letting the door slide softly closed behind him. Then he went to the bridge, to start the necessary preflight checks on theLidaru's systems. He had given Jannia enough time. Tomorrow he would leave, whether she had made an appearance or not. He could not wait forever. He had the child's needs to consider. Perhaps there would be other chances. So long as they both called Beckhaven Station home, their paths would cross again. A pale blue light on the communications console blinked softly. Relief washed over Emarr, mixed with excitement and pleasure. She had come. Late, perhaps, but she had come. But he must not frighten her with the strength of his unchecked feelings. He paused, taking the time to calm himself, to restrain the eagerness that must have been leaking from him like the spray from a ruptured coolant line. He walked down the corridor at a normal speed, and when he lowered the landing ramp to let Jannia on board, he managed to stand casually at the top instead of rushing down to greet her. But the woman standing at the bottom of the ramp was not Jannia. Her figure was rounder, fuller, and her hair fell in long chestnut ripples down her back. "You always rush out without checking who's hailing you?" Merilee O'Hare asked as she walked toward him. He tried to keep the disappointment off his face. It was not the response she deserved. "I was expecting someone," he told her. Not for the location of his homeworld could he be compelled to tell her who. Merilee had slowly accepted that Emarr's feelings for Jannia precluded anything beyond friendship between them. But that did not mean she had to approve. "That's no excuse for carelessness, Emarr," Merilee chided. "I could have been a bounty hunter." "There is not enough money on my head to make me worth a bounty hunter's time," Emarr countered. "But it is good to see you still have my well-being at heart." "For all the good it does," Merilee said. "You got mixed up in that business with Locke and Gandes last year and almost got yourself drowned. What happened to everything Ryan and I taught you about looking out for number one?" "As you do?" Emarr asked. "You were the one who rescued Vaialora when Gandes was holding her prisoner on her own ship. I also believe you were the one who persuaded Ryan to wager your ship against my person in that card game with Ziala all those years ago." Merilee shrugged. "I owed Vaia a favor. And I wanted you, for all the good it did me." Emarr shook his head. "Tell it to someone who knows you less well." He gestured for Merilee to precede him onto the ship. "It is good to see you, Angel. We have much picking up to do." "Catching up," Merilee corrected absently. "And yes, we do." * * * The girl sat beside Jannia in the copilot's seat, staring down at the deactivated magni- binders in her hands as if not quite believing they had really been removed. She seemed oblivious to everything else, even with the rainbow void of hyperspace-arguably the most hypnotically beautiful phenomenon in the universe-spread out before her into infinity. Jannia guessed freedom must look even better. "We'll be on Settlan in a couple of hours," she told the girl, wondering why she bothered. It wasn't like the girl understood anything she said. "My friend will take care of you from there on. I just hope to God you and he speak the same language." The girl glanced at her and asked a question-at least, it sounded like a question. Jannia scowled and shrugged. The girl heaved a heavy sigh and tried again."Visay oranki jai?" Jannia shook her head. The girl pointed to herself."Visay Lirah ahn." She pointed to Jannia."Visay oranki jai?" Jannia's lip twitched in her version of a smile. Of course. The most obvious of all questions. "My name is Jannia." The girl wrinkled her delicate nose."Visay Namiz jai?" From her tone, it was clear there was something not quite kosher about Namiz as a name. Jannia snorted, shaking her head. "Jannia.My name is Jannia." She enunciated each word carefully, emphasizing their separateness."Visay Jannia ahn. Got it now?" The girl smiled and nodded understanding."Atar fen." Got it,Jannia translated. "Your name is Lirah?" The girl nodded vigorously."Sai. Visay Lirah ahn. My name is Lirah." Jannia's lips twitched on both sides this time. It had to be a tough situation for the kid, taken from her home to a place where she knew neither the language nor the customs, and made a slave. Sure, Jannia had technically freed her, but it was an illusory freedom at best. Lirah was totally dependent on the good intentions of those around her, and probably would be for a long time. Going home wasn't an option. The only person who knew where to find home was the bitch who'd enslaved her in the first place. Still, the kid was clearly trying to make the best of it. Maybe she'd be all right. Emarr would take care of her. His bloody annoying sense of honor would see to that. God. If Akaril made for privacy problems, what was it going to be like trying to get romantic with Emarr with a teenager around? Not to mention a slaver to bring down? This was all becoming a hell of a lot more complicated than she'd planned for. Part of her wished she'd just told Rogai where he could stick his datacard. A small part. She snuck another glance at Lirah, who had gone back to staring at her binders. Jannia still had the datafiles Ziala had given her, with the directions for a delivery that would never take place as long as Jannia Wise had anything to do with it. She hadn't even read them yet. She didn't need letters on a screen to tell her what use a man might have for an exotic, empathic teenage girl. It sickened Jannia that Ziala could think she, with her past, would ever be part of something like that. No. She couldn't, no matter how cold, or how hard, she had become. And now that she knew about it, she could never just turn her face away and pretend she did not. When Emarr went after Ziala's operation, as she knew he would, she intended to be right there alongside him. * * * Emarr and Merilee talked literally all night. It had been a long time since he had seen her. While Merilee still maintained her ship's Beckhaven registry, over the past few years she had spent less and less time at the station and more and more out in the Fringes, running supplies to the deep-space colonists working to open that frontier. And, though she would not admit it, searching for the homeworld Emarr had almost given up hope of ever finding. It had hardly mattered if he ever saw home again-until he found Akaril. Merilee told Emarr about her adventures in the Fringes, about the worlds she had visited and the new races she had encountered. And Emarr told her of everything that had happened since the last time she'd spoken to someone from Beckhaven-of the final confrontation with Gandes, of Aden Locke's wedding to the young biochemist Merilee had met briefly last year on Crossroads Station. He left out any mention of what was and was not going on between himself and Jannia Wise. He did, however, tell her all about the small girl sleeping just down the corridor. "I can't believe it," Merilee said, shaking her head in disbelief. "After all this time, to find one of your own people. And the authorities on Doravi had no idea how this Burkeholt person came by her?" "They did not, but I do," Emarr answered. "We always assumed that Miles Vargas was taken out by one of his many and increasingly disgruntled creditors. But looking back, it does seem that his death occurred suspiciously soon after my liberation." Merilee's eyes widened. "You thinkZiala-" "It was not long after Vargas's death that we lost track of her. Looking back, I wonder why I did not make the connection sooner." "Wishful thinking, maybe. I certainly spent many a happy hour imagining nasty deaths for her. Especially when we were getting your scars removed." She reached out a single finger to trace the path of one of those erstwhile scars in the air over his left pectoral. "Perhaps. But I cannot help thinking how many people must have suffered for our lack of insight. Nine years, Angel. She has had nine years to come and go from my world, bringing home a man here, a child there, to sell to anyone who might haveuse ," he all but spat the word,"for a being with our talents." "That's assuming that itis her," Merilee said. "Be easier if it isn't. You don't need to face that again. The hold she had over you-I didn't think, at first, that anything would ever break it. Stars know, I tried hard enough." She pressed her lips together. "Was she at Locke's wedding?" Emarr looked at her oddly. "Why would you think Ziala-" Merilee shook her head. "Come on, Emarr. You know who I mean." Emarr looked away. Jannia was the last person he wanted to discuss right now. And Merilee was the last person he wanted to discuss her with. "You're doing a lot better keeping your empathic talents under wraps," Merilee said, "but the poker face still needs work. So she was there." "As a bride's attendant," Emarr confirmed. "A role I doubt anyone but Kerra could have talked her into." "So, did she actually speak to you this time, or did you just gaze at her soulfully from across the room while she polished her blaster?" "We spoke." "Oh, really? About what?" "It was private."Drop the subject,Emarr's tone said. A familiar presence stirred in the corner of his mind where Akaril lived. Her timing could not be better. "The child wakes," he said. "I think we should save this conversation for another time." She didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed on the small rumpled girl who appeared in the doorway, clutching a little stuffed doll in one hand while the other hand rubbed at her eyes. The child blinked sleepily at Merilee, a curious frown turning down the corners of her mouth. "Who are you?" Emarr answered. "This is Captain O'Hare, Akaril. She is an old friend." "Like Aunt Kerra and Uncle Aden?" "Older still. I have known her even longer than I have known Captain Wise. She was my first Human friend and is very special to me." He reached out his arms, and Akaril stumbled sleepily into his embrace. "Akaril, my daughter," he said with fond pride as he pulled her into his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder. "Looks good on you." Something in her face, in her stance, in his sense of her belied her words. Something about seeing him holding a child bothered her. She got to her feet, then stood awkwardly, as if looking for something to fix her gaze on-something besides the man she'd once loved and his daughter. He looked down at Akaril's little face and saw her watching Merilee intently, still frowning slightly. He brushed her mind with his, tasting the flavor of her emotions even as he reassured her. She was, he noted, scrupulously avoiding any empathic contact with Merilee. Which was to her credit, as she virtually radiated curiosity. "Are you hungry?" he asked her aloud, though he could easily have determined that from his sense of her. She nodded and slid off his lap. "I want pancakes. Not those ones you make withthings in them. The plain ones." "Thosethings are fresh berries, and they are good for you." She made a face. "I don't like them cooked. Only raw." "Then you will eat some on the side." He looked at Merilee. "Would you like something?" She gave a quick, curt nod. "What she's having sounds good." Emarr rose and went to the meal processor. That was when he noticed the message light on the comm panel beside it. The light was not flashing, but shone steadily purple, indicating a caller who had bypassed the message-record function and was instead holding for a live reply. His heart missed a beat. How long? Why had he not noticed the light flashing green when the call had first come in? How long had the caller been waiting? He activated the connection. A familiar dark-eyed face filled the screen. "Hello, Dengas," said Jannia's cool, dry voice. "It's about time you picked up." Joy burst inside Emarr's heart like a newborn star. Itwas her. Whatever doubts or obstacles had delayed her, they had not been enough to keep her away. "Did you find someone to watch your kid yet?" Jannia asked. "I need to see you alone. I've got something to show you. Something big." Emarr glanced over his shoulder. "There is someone who can stay with her. Is this about- -" Emarr struggled to keep the anticipation out of his voice as he groped for a way to ask without revealing to certain too-interested ears just what he was asking. "No," said Jannia bluntly without waiting for the rest of the question. "I'm at pad 69-A. I'll see you when you get here." She broke the connection. He turned to Merilee. "I need a favor." Merilee shook her head in disbelief. "You want me to babysit for you? While you go meet with Jannia Wise? I don't believe this. For eight years that woman's made it her life's work to avoid you, and now you just drop everything and run to her the second she calls your name. Don't you have any pride?" "What has pride to do with it? I am only responding to an invitation, not throwing myself prostrate at her feet." "Really. From here it looks like you're jumping at her commands like a submissive husband. I hope you're not auditioning for the role." "I assure you that there is nothing submissive about my role in her life." "An assurance which implies that youhave a place in her life. You don't, Emarr. You never will. She has nothing to offer you." Emarr opened his mouth to refute that claim, but it was Akaril who spoke first. "How wouldyou know? Humans can't see what's inside people. Only Kavay and me can do that. All you can do is guess." "Really. I guess having known her since before you were born doesn't count?" Akaril just shrugged. "I thank you to spare my daughter your sarcasm," Emarr said. "She should never have been subjected to this discussion in the first place. Whether I choose to meet with Jannia Wise is neither your decision nor hers. The only question to be answered is whether you will watch the child or whether I must bring her with me." "Wise seemed pretty adamant about meeting you alone," Merilee conceded. "If you're set on going, I'll watch the kid." "Thank you." He went down on one knee in front of Akaril and ruffled her hair. "Captain O'Hare will finish making your breakfast. I do not know how long I will be gone. Try not to give her too hard a time." * * * Jannia switched off the comm panel, grateful that Lirah was still sleeping in theIce Dagger's secondary cabin. It wasn't a comfortable experience, having a strange empath on board. Not when empathy was almost the only form of communication available to them. Lirah seemed to get frustrated with the limitations of gestures quickly. To be fair, Jannia didn't think the girl meant to be intrusive, but... Anyway, the last thing Jannia needed was for Lirah to pick up on the conflicted tangle of emotions Emarr's impending arrival stirred within her. Anticipation. Fear. An odd fluttery feeling low in her belly, as though she were pregnant with a litter of baby bats. Jannia swallowed. The baby-bat feeling wasn't entirely alien to her. She'd felt it before, as a young girl, before Gandes's assault had changed her. Attraction. Desire. When it had awakened inside her, she could not have said. Perhaps during the odd disturbing dreams she could not remember clearly in the morning. But it was there, and it was focused on Emarr Dengas. Deliberately, she brought the image of Tral Gandes into her mind's eye, letting the fear and revulsion his memory triggered wash that fragile new sensation away. This was not the time for it. This meeting wasn't about her. It was about Lirah. Jannia's ship was berthed halfway across the spaceport from theLidaru, but only five minutes had passed by the time the hail light on theIce Dagger 's comm panel flashed, indicating Emarr's arrival. Jannia hit the controls to lower the ramp with one hand, while the other opened the comm connection. "Come on up, Dengas." It seemed an eternity before Emarr's footfalls sounded in the corridor. Jannia got to her feet just as he entered. She was different, Emarr noted as his gaze moved over her. Sometime since he had seen her last, her space-black hair had been trimmed into a softer style, feathery wisps sweeping forward to frame her thin face. A soft loose tunic of indigo silk replaced the black leather duster she normally favored, contributing to the new, more feminine look. Her eyes, however, were as hard and cool as they had always been. "It is good to see you," Emarr said. "I had feared you would not come." "I almost didn't," Jannia admitted. "You said this meeting was not about-us," Emarr prompted. Jannia pressed her lips together. "There is no 'us', Dengas. Not yet. Maybe not ever. If anything, things are even more complicated now." She slipped past him into the corridor, and gestured for him to follow her. "I came close to running away, Dengas. To giving up my Beckhaven registry so I wouldn't have to see you again. Something changed my mind." She was holding her feelings in close. Emarr could get no sense of what she might be speaking of. She led him down the corridor, through the ship's lounge and past the sanitory to stop between the doors to theDagger 's two cabins. Emarr doubted her intention was to take him to her bed. Jannia went to one of the doors and touched a spot on its control panel, announcing their presence to whoever waited inside. "Lirah? You awake?" Through the door-panel's speaker, a voice answered in a language at once strange and familiar. Shock struck Emarr like the blast from a plasma cannon. An Alorai, here... He opened his mouth to utter a warning, but too late. The door slid open, to reveal the moss-colored features of his people's most bitter enemy. With a shriek of hate and terror, the Alorai girl threw herself at him, sharp nails clawing at his eyes... CHAPTER 6 ========= The girl's hands clawed at Emarr's face, gouging at his eyes. He grabbed her wrists, trying to force her hands away. There was strength in her, more than he would have thought. Her nails raked across his skin, tearing his flesh. He did not feel the pain. Her hate, her terror, crashed over him like a huge dark wave. It poured into him, filled him, and turned itself back on her. His fingers dug hard into her wrists, and he felt her pain in his own flesh. The shock of it broke through and shattered the wave of second-hand feeling, but he knew what would happen if he let her go. "Lirah! What the hell are you doing?" Jannia launched herself at the girl, grabbed her around the shoulders and hauled her off Emarr, flinging her backward to fall sprawling across the cabin's single narrow bunk. "Are you insane?" The Alorai glared past her at Emarr and spat what sounded like the foulest of curses. She looked ready to launch herself at him again at any moment. His gaze fixed on her frightened, hate-distorted features, Emarr advanced on the fallen girl. "What are you doing?" Jannia demanded, catching him by the arm and trying to pull him back. "You'll only scare her more." Emarr laughed mirthlessly. "The girl tried to blind me, and you are concerned aboutme frighteningher?"He shook off Jannia's hand and bore down on the girl. She scrambled back on the bed as he came closer-whatever courage had fueled her attack was leaching away as her wide brown eyes took in his height, his broad shoulders, his strong, bare chest. He braced one knee on the bed and took hold of her, clasping her head in his hands. "Lidaru."She spat the name-quite literally. Emarr shook his head in an attempt to shake her saliva off his face. He could not afford to release her to wipe it away. "Alorai," he said, his voice as calm as he could make it. He leaned toward her. The closeness of his large male body must be feeding her fear. He could not help that. Jannia seized his arm in an iron grip and tried to haul him off of the girl. "What the hell are you doing! Get off her! Get off her, Dengas, or I swear I'll rip your eyes out myself!" He jerked his shoulder, pulling out of Jannia's grip. "Trust me, Pale One," he hissed softly. "Do not interfere." His strong hands twined in the Alorai girl's hair, holding her still as he laid his forehead against hers. He struggled for calm. Struggled to force back the knee-jerk hostility fostered in him from childhood. To open his whole heart to the kinship, the warmth he needed her to feel from him. "Lidaru,"she protested confusedly as his feelings leached into her, flooding and trying to wash away her abhorrence."Lidaru asan ka dolai. Lidaru amoka vai." He did not know the words, but through their forced empathic connection, he understood the sense of them. "Lidaru are the enemy. Lidaru have no souls." "I have a soul," he told her in Galactic, reinforcing the words she could not understand with the emotion behind them. "I am not your enemy. Feel the truth of this. I was taken from our world too. I was made a slave. We are one in this. I am not here to harm you. Believe this." With each word he spoke, some of the tension seemed to drain out of her body. The hate and fear receded, replaced with confusion, curiosity, and finally a tentative understanding. "Kiasel anvor adrieth, Lidaru. Ol taset." Emarr rose from the bed and extended a hand to the girl. She eyed it with distaste for a moment, but let him help her to her feet. "What did she say?" Jannia demanded. Emarr shook his head. "There are those of my race who know the Alorai language, but I am not one of them." "A little racial tension on the old homeworld, eh?" Jannia said. "I would have thought being empaths would prevent you from making war on your own kind." Emarr looked at her. "We do not make war on our own kind. To us, the Alorai are no more our people than the Kethrians or Shian-ru are yours. On a low-tech planet, where a journey measured in kilometers can take weeks, another land is the same as another world. The Alorai do not share the Lidaru's culture or religion. Sometimes that is all the justification war requires." Jannia looked from one green alien face to the other. The racial differences between them were clear. But it was equally clear that they were more like one another than either was like her. Yet Lirah hadn't felt compelled to try to clawher eyes out. "Let's take this discussion into the lounge," Jannia said. "I don't know about you, but Lirah and I haven't had our breakfast yet. And we have a lot to talk about." * * * Emarr listened attentively, without speaking, as Jannia filled him in on exactly how she had managed to acquire a fifteen-year-old Alorai complete with fully functional magni-binders. She watched his face, gauging his reaction, which seemed to consist mostly of an increasingly dark frown. If his brows lowered much more, she mused, they'd merge with his cheekbones. "So I was right," he said when she had finished. "It was Ziala who sold Akaril to that so- called uncle of hers. And there are others. How many others, Pale One? Did she give you numbers?" "Fifty or so, no more." Jannia said. "Not a huge number, but when we're talking about children like Akaril, and young girls like Lirah..." Lirah looked expectantly in Jannia's direction at the sound of her name, then seemed to deflate. She knew she was being discussed, but there was no way for her to participate in the conversation. "Innocents," Emarr agreed. "Those who can do nothing to defend themselves." Jannia's lip twitched. "Oh, I think Lirah was doing a pretty good job of defending herself before." "I had no trouble overpowering her, and I was tryingnot to harm her," Emarr pointed out. "It's not just children and girls, though. There have been men, too. Men like you. I met one, one she kept for herself. He seemed to have her trust, and some degree of independence. She referred to him as her bodyguard. He carried a weapon." "Interesting. Could you tell whether he was Alorai or Lidaru?" "Like you-a Lidaru. And Ziala said he was some kind of monk, and exceptionally strong. It sounded a lot like what you told me about Akaril. I felt very exposed, being there with him, feeling him looking right through me while I lied to his mistress. But he doesn't seem to have given me away." "As yet," Emarr said. "One thing's for sure-he doesn't share your little containment problem. I couldn't get any kind of handle on him at all. Not from his face, not from his body language, nothing. He doesn't speak, not at all, but he seems to understand Galactic perfectly. That's the extent of what I know." "A wild card, then. Playable, perhaps, by either hand." "Wow," Jannia said. "You actually used a metaphor right. Extended and everything. I'm impressed." "You do not sound impressed." He tapped the table with his finger, summoning her attention back to the subject at hand. "Ziala was working out of Miakar?" Jannia shook her head. "She was staying on Miakar when I met up with her. She has no set base of operations. Prospective clients approach her through her agents, like Rogai, who contact her with the orders. Only the pilots who actually make the deliveries get to know the location of her next temporary base, so we can collect the second half of our pay and get our next assignments. I don't know who, if anyone, she's hired besides me." "You took money in advance for transporting the girl?" Emarr asked narrowing his eyes disapprovingly. "Do you not find that dishonorable?" "Hey, do you think she'd have trusted me if I'd offered to make the delivery for nothing? It's not as though Ziala came by that money honestly. But if it bothers you so much, I'll give it to Lirah." Emarr shook his head. "Bad idea. She is completely at the mercy of others. She lacks even the ability to communicate with those around her. It would be too easy for others to take advantage of her. I will hold the money, and use it for her needs." Jannia raised a brow. "And what's to keep you from taking advantage of her?" Emarr's brows furrowed in displeasure. "I will pretend you did not say that." "So how are we going to do this?" Jannia asked. "We?" Emarr said. Jannia nodded. "Yes, we. I'm already into this up to my remaining eyeball. I took the contract, then broke it. Which means I'm already on Ziala's blood list, once she realizes what I've done. Besides, I want in. That woman made my skin crawl. What kind of sub-humanoid abomination sells children?" "When were you to make the delivery?" Emarr asked. "In eleven days. On Crossroads Station. After that, I'm supposed to proceed to Mercala to collect the second half of my payment. And let her know where my new base of operations will be, since I can't work for a slaver and still keep my Beckhaven registry." A slow smile played across Emarr's lips. "Then you will make that meeting. You still have Ziala's trust, or what passes for trust with her. I would have you keep it. We need to do more than stop her, Pale One. We need to learn the whereabouts of the slaves she has already placed. Not to mention the location of our homeworld, so they can be returned to where they belong." "You can't be suggesting I take Lirah to that perverted playboy Ziala intended her for," Jannia protested. "I can't believe you'd even suggest it. You must know what will happen to her!" Emarr shook his head. "I cannot believe you could truly think so little of me. Lirah's prospective master will simply have to be silenced somehow. He certainly cannot be permitted to come after Ziala, demanding to know why his slave was never delivered." "I want that job," Jannia hissed. "You don't even know how much I want that job." Emarr shook his head. "I fear your methods would lack subtlety. We will deal with this man together. For now, I should take the girl back to my ship. The sooner she begins to grow accustomed to me, the better." "I'll go with you," Jannia said. "I can help her get settled. And I'd like to see the little one." "Akaril will be pleased to see you again," Emarr answered.But I know someone else who will not. * * * Lirah stuck close to Jannia's side on the walk back to Emarr's ship, almost clinging as her wide dark eyes stared at the concrete vastness around her. Jannia suspected shewould be clinging, if her empathic sense hadn't picked up on Jannia's discomfort with physical contact. The girl had placed herself on Jannia's left side, using Jannia as a buffer between herself and Emarr. Jannia could almost have laughed. The idea that her admittedly abrasive presence should be needed to put anyone at ease was ridiculous. When they reached theLidaru , Emarr activated the controls to lower the ramp. Jannia braced herself for the inevitable eruption of one small, energetic child. She needn't have bothered. The lowered ramp opened on a dark empty corridor. As Jannia and Lirah followed Emarr aboard, an almost deafening silence echoed around them. Jannia wondered if the apprehension she was feeling were hers, or some empathic resonance coming from the man in front of her. Either way, the growing tightness in her throat was just as real. "Akaril. Angel?" Emarr called the names softly, then louder. No answer. The ice-cold fingers clenching Jannia's heart squeezed tighter. Beside her, Lirah whimpered like a scared kitten. "Lock it down, Dengas," Jannia hissed. "Terrifying Lirah's not going to help anything." The clawing unease eased off abruptly, as though a door had been shut on it, but its echo lived on inside her. Jannia's hand reached for Emarr's independent of her will. Her fingers curled around his. "Akaril," Emarr said. "I cannot sense Akaril." The darkened corridor gave way to an equally dark lounge. Emarr called his daughter's name again, the panic he no longer broadcast plain in the tight-throated snap of his voice as he released Jannia's fingers to grope at the wall panel. Sudden light bathed a lounge that had been torn apart. The lounge table had been turned over on its side, the cushions from the bench behind it pulled off to rest at crooked angles against the table's legs. What looked like a cargo tarp had been flung over the resulting mess, half-covering table and cushions alike. Emarr bent to retrieve something half-obscured by the corner of the tarp. It was a doll, some kind of strange stuffed creature of indeterminate species. Emarr cradled it in his hands like a child's broken body. "I have lost her," he said, his voice blank and dead. "She has been taken from me. Ziala. She must have followed you here..." "Anol mi'chala?"Lirah asked, stepping into the room. She picked her way through the mess toward the comm console, where a colored light blinked softly. Blue, for an internally recorded message. Emarr strode forward and nudged the girl aside. Jannia's eyes widened at the face that came up on the comm screen. What the hell wasshe doing here? "I'm sorry about the mess, Emarr." In spite of her words, there was no apology in O'Hare's overly cheerful voice. "I promise we'll clean it up when we get back. I couldn't believe it when I heard this kid of yours had never been to a sim arcade. You've seen sorely neglecting her education, old buddy. See you soon." The screen went dark. "Merilee O'Hare?" Jannia demanded incredulously. "She'syour babysitter?" Emarr's hands clenched around the doll in his hands. Had the poor creature been alive, he'd be killing it. His eyes burned with such rage Jannia was glad he had his empathy under control. "Hey. It's okay," she said. "You just jumped to the wrong conclusion, that's all." "I trusted that woman," he said, his voice tense and cold. "How could she do this?" Jannia stared at him. So O'Hare had let the kid build a fort in the lounge and then not cleaned it up before they went out, and Emarr had jumped to the wrong conclusion when he saw the mess. That didn't begin to account for the depth of the anger she heard in his voice. "Might not be her fault," Jannia pointed out. "The kid might have-you know. What she did to me at the spa that day. Did you think to warn O'Hare about that little trick of hers?" Another thought occurred to her. "For that matter, did you eventell O'Hare to keep the kid on the ship?" Emarr stared blankly at Jannia. "You didn't, did you? Then what's the problem?" Emarr's stranglehold on the abandoned doll eased. It slipped from his fingers as his hands dropped to his sides. "No," he said softly, as if only now realizing it. "No, I did not. I cannot believe I was so careless." His voice dripped with anger, but this time the emotion was directed at himself. Lirah, who had been quietly putting the bench back together, shot Emarr a suspicious look. He shook his head, somehow managing a smile for her sake. She turned back and set herself to neatly folding the tarp. "I don't get it," Jannia said. "What's so wrong with taking the kid out for a while?" "She isKinya-d'sar-" Emarr began, then abruptly snapped his mouth closed. His gaze darted to Lirah, who stared at him with wide eyes. Dropping the half-folded tarp, she made a hasty gesture with two fingers over her heart. "She is special," he amended, though clearly the damage was done. "You yourself have felt the power of her gifts. Her sensitivity makes her vulnerable to the unshielded emotions of others. On the homeworld, such a child would be raised in isolation, to protect her developing spirit from being crushed under the weight of those emotions. And to protect others from her influence, until she can learn control." Jannia glanced uneasily at Lirah. "And her people? What do they do with children like Akaril?" Emarr glanced over at Lirah. The girl avoided his gaze, though she made no move to continue her voluntary cleanup. "There are no such children among the Alorai. The gene for early development of empathic awareness was eliminated from their population long ago. In Alorai culture, theKinya-d'sar exist now only in legend. The sort of legends with which young children like to frighten each other." "You mean like the old fairy tales?" Jannia shook her head. "Well, what do you know. The ancient Earthers were right. Witches really are green." Emarr shot her an irritated look. "Akaril is a sacred child, blessed by the gods with an awareness beyond that of ordinary beings. You will not even joke about this 'witch' foolishness. I can only hope the Alorai will realize it is foolishness before she learns enough Galactic to offend my daughter with her prejudice." Jannia looked at Lirah. "I don't know. With Akaril's sensitivity, I don't see how she could miss it." * * * It was over an hour before Merilee and Akaril returned to theLidaru.At Emarr's request, Jannia took Lirah aft to set up the partitioned-off corner of the cargo hold that would be the girl's quarters. This would give him some time to accustom Akaril to the idea of a strange and probably hostile adolescent sharing their home-not to mention sparing him the tension of Jannia Wise and Merilee O'Hare in the same room. Akaril did not appear to have suffered any serious damage from her unauthorized outing. Her wide brown eyes were bright with excitement as she described the places she had gone and the people she had seen. Apparently in addition to the sim arcade Merilee had also taken her to an authentic traditional Olaret restaurant-where she had, to Emarr's surprise, tried a number of unfamiliar foods and decided she even liked two of them. From there they had gone on to a toy store larger than the whole residential area of Beckhaven Station, and a crowded public park. Emarr probed the child subtly but thoroughly and found no evidence that exposure to so many unfamiliar minds had unduly traumatized her. Apparently she had possessed the good sense to keep her mind shielded for most of the time. "You have had a busy day," Emarr said, ruffling Akaril's hair. "Go to your cabin and rest. I will be in to check on you soon." "You should not have taken her off the ship without my permission," Emarr said when the child had gone. "Have you any idea what thoughts passed through my mind when I walked into the lounge and found it torn apart, my child nowhere in sight?" "I'm sorry. But I left you a message, after all. All you had to do was watch it." "A message I only noticedafter my heart had stopped beating. What would you think if you came home to find your ship ripped apart, those you had left behind gone?" "Why would kidnappers, or whatever, have bothered running down to the cargo hold for a tarp to throw over the mess? Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could tell we were just building a fort. Didn't you ever build forts when you were a kid?" "Not fromfurniture!" ==================== "I'm sorry, okay? I truly didn't mean to panic you. But I don't get to spend that much time around kids, and yours seems so serious. I just wanted to show her a little fun." "Next time, have fun with heron the ship." "Okay, okay. So what did Wise want?" Merilee asked. "I don't see any blood, so I assume she didn't rip out your heart any more literally than she usually does." "That comment was uncalled for," Emarr said. "She is trying to move forward, to put old wounds behind her. Perhaps you might consider trying the same thing." Merilee winced as the barb hit home. "Was that what she wanted to talk to you about? Old wounds?" "Not this time. I was right, Angel. Ziala has resurfaced, and it is she who sold Akaril to that collector on Doravi. She has hired the Pale One to deliver a young girl to a man on Crossroads Station. Instead the Pale One brought the girl to me. She has offered to assist me in shutting Ziala down." Merilee's eyes widened. "You're going after her? Emarr, do you think that's a good idea? You remember what it was like for you when Ryan and I first liberated you? Don't you remember how I held you in my arms when you woke in the middle of the night, crying her name? The woman used your own empathic nature to bind her to you, to make you so dependent on her you couldn't have left her on your own if your life depended on it! It took months to break her hold on you. It was terrifying. I was afraid you'd never break the obsession, that you'd become like Gandes, driven mad by what you couldn't have. At one point I was ready to send you back to her, just to spare you the agony of withdrawal. Now you think you're ready to face her again?" Emarr frowned, the expression barely adequate to convey how her words offended him. "I am no Gandes, bound forever to one woman by an accident of chemistry. Ziala was my first lover, and the bond she forged between us was intense, but it has long since been broken. I feel nothing but loathing for her now." "Are you so sure?" Merilee demanded. "Are you sure your fixating on Jannia Wise, the one woman you know will never want you, isn't your subconscious way of remaining faithful to Ziala even now?" "Faithful? To Ziala?" Emarr snorted contemptuously. "There have been women. Perhaps not 'one in every port' as they say, but there have been women. As to Jannia, why do you think she originally arranged to meet me here?" He flinched at the hurt shock in Merilee's eyes at his last words, and wished he could call them back. It was not like him to be so insensitive. He of all people should know that strong feelings did not necessarily fade over time just because they were not returned. "I see," Merilee said. "I suppose I should go, then, and leave you two alone. Or as alone as you can manage to be, with two kids aboard. I'd offer to babysit again, but after the way you jumped down my throat this time..." "I am sorry for that," Emarr said quietly. "I know I should not blame you for disobeying instructions I never thought to give. In my eagerness to see Jannia, I forgot to consider my daughter's needs. The shame for that lies upon my head, not yours." Merilee shook her head. "I don't get that, Emarr. I don't see what harm it did her to take her out. She loved it. Everything was so wonderful to her, so new. I think you ought to take her places more often, not just keep her cooped up on this little ship all the time." "Such children have always been raised in isolation," Emarr answered. "It is fortunate she seems to have suffered no ill effects from today, but that does not mean such outings should be a regular occurance. My people have millennia of experience in dealing with prematurely awakened empathic talents. You do not." "I suppose not," Merilee said. "But I've got nieces and nephews. I like to think I know a few things about kids in general. And I think today was good for her. The what-do-you-call-'em-" "Kinya-d'sar." "Right. TheKinya-d'sar on your planet aren't raised on sixty-foot light freighters, are they?" "Of course not. They are raised in mountaintop cloisters, with well-tended gardens for meditation. But such an environment is not available to us." "It seems to me you have to find some kind of balance," Merilee said. "Maybe the crowded conditions Akaril experienced today aren't good for her as a regular thing. But neither is this. A two-cabin spaceship shouldn't be a child's whole world, and I think you know that." She picked up her jacket off the back of the bench and draped it over her arm. "What are you going to do about Ziala, Emarr?" "Jannia is going to continue working with her," he answered. "Perhaps, working on the inside, she will be able to learn my homeworld's location. Shutting down Ziala's operation will only be half a victory if the slaves she has already placed cannot be returned home." Merilee sighed deeply. "Emarr, do you promise not to take my head off if I speak frankly?" His eyes narrowed. "Go on." "I'm not so sure you can trust Jannia." Emarr's eyes narrowed even further. "Explain yourself." "I know I haven't been around the station much lately, but I still hear things. She's changed since Gandes died, and not necessarily for the better. She's been distancing herself from everybody. She left her partner-" "So did I." "-and she's been coming back to Beckhaven less and less-" "So have you." "Stop interrupting me." Merilee shook her head in frustration. "Now, suddenly, after all these years of you mooning over her from afar and her avoiding you like an unstable pulsar cluster, she wants to get close to you? Then we find out Ziala's crawled out of whatever hole she's been hiding in all these years. And who do we find in the middle of it all? The one person guaranteed to get under that gorgeous green skin of yours. It's too convenient." "This theory of yours assumes that Ziala would know of my feelings for Jannia." "Which she would-if Jannia had told her." "No." Emarr got to his feet, turning to stare at the inactive viewport. He could not look Merilee in the face. Not when she was making such outrageous accusations against the woman he loved. "I will not listen to this. I trust her. What is more, I trust my daughter. Her empathic sensitivity is much greater than mine. She would not have warmed so quickly to one who meant me harm." "Unless your own feelings were blinding her," Merilee said. "She has to be more highly attuned to her own father-adoptive or not-than to a woman she's only met a few times. Maybe she's fond of Jannia just because you are." Emarr pressed his lips tightly together, biting back the bitter retort that threatened to erupt from his mouth. It was Merilee's jealousy talking. That was all. She had never gotten over the unintentional insult of his leaving her for a woman who did not even share his feelings-a woman who had almost killed him. Jannia emerged from the other corridor, the one leading from the cabins. "I left Lirah looking over another one of Akaril's picture books," she said by way of greeting. "She's already memorized three of them. At this rate, she'll soon be speaking Galactic better than you do." Emarr sent Merilee a hard glare, backing it up with an empathic warning of his reaction should she try to continue their previous discussion in Jannia's presence. "I still have not found anyone to care for Akaril. The Alorai cannot be left alone with her. Not only have they no common language, but I do not know how deep the Alorai's prejudice runs. Is Akaril even safe with her?" A troubled frown creased Jannia's brow. "Maybe I should keep Lirah with me, after all. At least as far as Crossroads..." Emarr shook his head. "That would only postpone the inevitable. For obvious reasons, you cannot take her with you when you rejoin Ziala. I will simply have to deal with the situation as best I can." "Maybe O'Hare could take her," Jannia suggested. She glanced at Merilee. "That is, if you want to be in on this. I know you were the one who got Dengas away from this woman in the first place." "Oh, I plan to be in on this, all right." Jannia frowned at the dark note of warning in the other woman's voice. "I think O'Hare should keep looking after Akaril too. If we're doing this together, we don't want to put the kid in any danger." "Such as the danger to her from the Alorai girl, which is the reason we asked Merilee to takeher in the first place?" "Hey, you're the one who said separating them now was only postponing the inevitable," Jannia said. "And Lirah's hardly the only danger to Akaril's safety-if she's a danger at all, and frankly, I don't think she is. She seems more afraid of the kid than openly hostile. I'd be more worried about taking a kid her age to a place like Crossroads at all, and if O'Hare takes both girls then there's no need-" "I hate to be the one to say it," Merilee said, "but Wise has a point. You got mad at me for taking the kid to a toy store and a playground, and nowyou want to take her toCrossroads when you have a choice in the matter? In case you never noticed, that place is a little on the rough side." "I admit to some reservations-" Emarr began. "Reservations, my ass, Dengas. Admit tothis. Ziala needs to be brought down. We can't risk giving her the chance to victimize any more of your people. That's where your focus has to be. You can't afford the distraction of wondering if your daughter is safe." She regarded Jannia through narrowed eyes. "Any distraction could be fatal." "The risk to Jannia will be greater than the risk to me," Emarr chided softly. "She will be working from the inside." "I'm sure she will be," Merilee muttered. Emarr's eyes narrowed, but he did not pursue the subject further. "We need not be on Crossroads for longer than the few hours it takes to deal with Ziala's client, but the trip there will take much longer. I see no reason why she should have to spend that trip exposed to the Alorai's hostility when she can remain with me. I will turn her over to you when we reach Crossroads. We will make further arrangements then." Merilee nodded. "I should go get my ship ready for departure. You can bring Wise's girl to my ship whenever you're ready." She turned to go. Jannia's gaze remained locked on the corridor long after Merilee had vanished from sight. "I don't have to be an empath to know how that one feels about me," she said finally, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the room like a cloud. "She is wrong," Emarr said. "I know that. You feel a great deal of ambivalence toward me. I can feel that, whenever we are close. But there is a difference between ambivalence and duplicity. I can feel your fear of me, your discomfort at this thing that is happening between us, and I can feel the attraction you are only now beginning to recognize in yourself. But these emotions, for all their confusion, are honest ones. I feel no deception from you." "Your empathic skills are raw and untrained," Jannia reminded him. "You admit that yourself." "I have grown in sensitivity and control since Akaril came into my life." Emarr took a step closer to her. "I have had to." He reached for her hand. "Do you wish me to distrust you, Pale One? Do you fear our closeness so much you could use this nonsense to push me away?" Jannia stared at his outstretched hand as if she didn't recognize it. "All I wanted was a simple, physical encounter, to see if I could do it. I never planned on things getting this complicated. Frankly, I'm amazed I haven't run the other way by now." Emarr reached out his hand again. This time, he did not waste time waiting for her to clasp it. This time, he curled his fingers around hers without waiting for her permission. He pulled her closer to him. "You have never been one for running away, Pa-" He stopped, swallowed, and started again. "Jannia." She looked down at their clasped hands. Through his empathic sense, Emarr could feel the tension that stirred inside her at his touch. But this time, there was more to it than fear. She took his other hand in hers. Brought their intertwined fingers up between them, so the backs of her hands rested against his bare chest, and his against the soft fabric covering her breasts. She closed her eyes, wishing and fearing that he would kiss her. But he only clasped her fingers more tightly. His body screamed in frustration, wanting to crush her to him, but he ignored it. He, of all people, understood the need to go carefully with her. He knew what it was to have been violated. Perhaps his own experience had not been as violent as hers. Perhaps he had even consented to his, at least in the beginning. Still, he understood. The first move must be hers. She leaned closer, and he tensed in anticipation. "Kavay, my stomach hurts." The soft, whining complaint carried with it a surge of nausea. With a tight-lipped grimace, Emarr released Jannia's hands, the mood broken. She stepped quickly back as he moved past her to the doorway where Akaril leaned weakly. The child looked even greener than usual. "Too much strange food, kid?" Jannia asked as Emarr lifted the child into his arms. Akaril nodded slowly. Probably too much emotional tension in the air, as well,Emarr thought. He would be glad when Merilee had gone, taking Lirah with her. "I should go," Jannia said. He wanted to tell her no, that she should stay, continue what they had begun only moments before. But he just stood there, holding his daughter in his arms, and said nothing. "I'll take Lirah over to O'Hare's ship. See you on Crossroads, Dengas." She leaned over to ruffle Akaril's rumpled hair. "Later, kiddo." Emarr held on to Akaril and watched her go. CHAPTER 7 ========= Jannia stared at her cabin ceiling, wondering if she should even try to get any more sleep. The sheets on her narrow bunk were twisted under her, leaving half the mattress uncovered. She struggled to recall the details of the dream she'd just jerked awake from, but could not. They'd slipped away the moment her eyes snapped open. Buying Aden Locke's old ship had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Hey, he was retiring anyway, and the price he'd asked had been barely enough to avoid insulting Jannia's new independent status. Like a graduating daughter "buying" her daddy's old aircar. It hadn't occurred to her until afterward that the ship was haunted. TheIce Dagger had a new name, a new paint job and new mattresses on the bunks, but that didn't change the fact that one of those bunks, Gandes had slept in, dreams of revenge dancing in his twisted brain. Buying Aden's old ship, impounded on Divas Four, had given Gandes a perfect way to torment him; trading it later to Tamiana Liori had enabled the unsuspecting Kethrian to act as a decoy for a time-until it was time to use her for other things. Tami had eventually ended up with the ship Aden and Kerra had briefly shared-and Jannia had this one. Ghosts and all. No bloody wonder she had nightmares. You had nightmares on Beckhaven, too,she reminded herself.It's not the ship that's haunted, it's your own damned mind. This dream had started the way they always did. Gandes came to her, demanded she tell him where Vaia was. She refused, and the rage and lust in his eyes erupted, twisting his face into a mask of hate and desperation. He twisted his hands in the fabric of her tunic and ripped. Always before, the dreams had ended there. She had jerked awake, her body soaked with fear-sweat as her mind violently rejected the rest of the memory. But this dream had gone further. This dream had taken her beyond what she'd let herself remember before. But why couldn't she remember it now, only moments after waking? Oh, she knew well enough what had happened next. She had read the medical reports, though both Vaia and the doctors had tried to talk her out of it. Gandes had stabbed her repeatedly in the chest and abdomen, and carved up her face beyond any hope of recognition. It had taken the doctors weeks to erase all the scars. One eye had been destroyed beyond all hope of repair. It's synthorg replacement spasmed at the memory. Jannia rolled over onto her side, staring out the viewport at the swirling random colors of hyperspace, the ethereal dimension where conventional rules of space and time became as distorted as the inner workings of Jannia's own soul. Emarr Dengas was out there somewhere, headed in more or less the same direction. But communication between ships was impossible in the void. In hyperspace, one was truly alone, as if no one and nothing else existed. Odd how that cosmic isolation had never bothered her before now. She could not remember any time when she'd felt the need to turn to someone else for comfort. For most of her life, it would not have occurred to her that she could. Her gaze drifted to the nightstand, where the syringe of sleeping medication lay waiting in the bottom of a drawer. She ignored its siren call. She'd been weak once, and almost made herself late for the Lockes' wedding. Drugs. She hated them. In the aftermath of Gandes's attack the doctors had tried to get her to take some kind of hormonal cocktail to balance out her neurotransmitters, to counteract the trauma's long-term effects on her mind. She'd refused. The bloody doctors thought any problem could be solved by drowning it in drugs. Her mother had thought so too. Jannia sat up. If she wasn't sleeping, she really should check on the course monitors. Hyperspace tended to be a lot more erratic than "real" space, especially on the temporal level. While the ship's computer was programmed to compensate for most inadvertent course deviations, now and then something slipped by it that could be disastrous if left uncorrected. It wasn't unheard of for ships to get lost a whole quadrant or more away from their intended destination, or even to get caught centuries out of their proper time. Legend had it that an accidental time traveler had been responsible for Humanity's acquiring hyperspace technology in the first place. There were no nasty surprises on theIce Dagger's navigational computer tonight. Jannia nodded in satisfaction as she turned away from the nav console. At least something in her life was going the way it should. She picked up her datapad off the empty copilot's seat and prepared to immerse herself in the latest TimeLost mystery novel. By the time the novel's heroine had managed to use her anachronistic knowledge to solve the murder, it was breakfast time, and Jannia had reached Crossroads Station. * * * "Wise, you look like hell." Merilee stepped to one side to let Jannia move past her onto theAvaranda . "Something been keeping you up nights? A guilty conscience, maybe?" Jannia ignored the comment. She knew perfectly well the other woman's reasons for disliking her, but that didn't mean she had to let herself be drawn into some kind of verbal catfight. Jannia had better uses for her energy. "I just came to see how Lirah was making out." "She's fine. Driving me crazy asking the words for everything, but otherwise fine. She also has this annoying obsession with picking up after me." Merilee sighed. "I miss my mess." "She did that when she was with me, too. I suppose she's just trying to make herself useful." Jannia folded her arms pointedly across her chest, tapping her foot with impatience. "When I said I wanted tosee how she was doing, I meant that literally." Merilee gestured in the direction of the ship's lounge. "She's studying those picture books of hers on the datapad you left. After a week of that, I'm hearing the Reader voice in my sleep. I hope to hell when she finally does learn Galactic she doesn't have that thing's accent." "Then let's hope we can find her homeworld before she has to learn it." Jannia shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it to-or rather at-Merilee. She headed for the lounge. Merilee tossed the jacket aside and followed her. Lirah sat at theAvaranda 's narrow table, hunched over a child's datapad. She didn't even glance up as Jannia and Merilee entered. She just stared at the brightly colored pictures on the oversize screen, pressed the READ ALOUD button over and over, and echoed each word like a dutiful mynah. A sound almost like a chuckle escaped Jannia's lips. Damned if Lirahwasn't picking up the Reader's nauseatingly precise pronunciation and snooty upper-crust accent. Jannia eased onto the bench beside Lirah. Only then did the girl notice her, and look up. A bright smile lit up her young face. "Jannia." There was so much enthusiasm in Lirah's voice that Jannia half-feared the girl would throw her arms around her, as Akaril might. "That's my name," Jannia said. "Hi, Lirah. How have you been getting along with O'Hare, here?" Lirah continued to smile at her, though she probably hadn't understood a word of what she said. "Look. I read. Ship. Star. Tarenash." The name of the tall Humanoid aliens in the third picture seemed to get caught in Lirah's teeth and came out mangled. Jannia repeated the word properly. Lirah made a second attempt, but faltered on the same sound that had caused her trouble the first time. She couldn't seem to get her tongue around the N. Jannia repeated the word, this time opening her mouth wide so Lirah could see the right way to position her tongue. Lirah tried the sound on its own a few times before attempting the word again. This time, she got it right. "You have more patience with her than I do," Merilee commented. "I'd have just flipped ahead to the next easy word." "In the real world, people don't speak in just easy words." Jannia got up, leaving Lirah to continue working on her own. "Besides, how do we know which words are hard for her? We didn't grow up speaking Alorai. How do we know which sounds don't exist in her language?" "I'm not getting why you care," Merilee said, leaning against the bulkhead with her arms folded across her chest. "You didn't waste any time washing your hands of her." "If I'd washed my hands of her I wouldn't be standing here. You know why I can't keep her with me. I just wish there was someone else we could trust." "Wemeaning you and Emarr." Merilee ground her teeth together. "Trust has nothing to do with why you roped me into host-parenting. You just want me out of the way." "Shut up, O'Hare. You'd grasp at anything to convince yourself I'm only in this to hurt him somehow." Jannia had promised herself she wouldn't do this, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "You had made up your mind about me before we ever met. The first time I ever saw you, you looked at me as if I was made of zhai-dung. Don't think I don't remember." "That might have had something to do with the fact that you'd nearly killed my lover." "Emarr wasnever your lover." "I thought of him that way. He would have been. We were planning to take our friendship to the next level, the day you smashed his brains in. And somehow managed to convince him you were his destiny in the process." Jannia registered Merilee's words and choked on what she'd been going to say. "Hisdestiny?" she managed, once she could breathe properly again. "Are you serious?" "Trust me. I wouldn't joke about that. Emarr's religion teaches that each being is put in this universe to fulfill a specific destiny. He thinks you're his. He thinks his reason for existing is to heal whatever the hell is wrong with you. At least that's how he justifies this little obsession of his." "Obsession." The word felt wrong on her tongue. She knew what an obsession was. She'd seen its results first hand. Whatever this thing was going on between her and Emarr, she wouldn't allow this woman to reduce it to something so-so- Emarr cared about her. That much she knew. That much he'd made sure she knew. If he'd convinced himself the gods meant him to heal her, it was because he wanted to believe that. Because he wanted for her what she wanted for herself. To be able to touch another being without fear, like everyone else. She wouldn't believe he was like Gandes. She couldn't. He was the only chance she had. Jannia could feel Lirah's gaze on her. She glanced at the girl. Lirah's eyes were wide with concern. The tension level in this room was getting too bloody high, and it couldn't be good for her. Jannia didn't give a flying fart what Merilee O'Hare thought of her, or of her intentions toward a man who had already made his own feelings clear to both of them. But she did care about Lirah. She saw so much of herself in that kid. She knew what it was like to have your whole world torn away from you. Though maybe not in such a literal sense. "I think we should take this discussion outside," she said. Merilee quirked a brow. "Not like that," Jannia said. "I mean-" she gestured vaguely in Lirah's direction. "She might not understand what we're saying, but..." Merilee nodded. "We need to have this out, I think." She gestured for Jannia to precede her off the ship. It was cool in the hangar bay, and the ships flying in and out created a wind that stirred the women's hair and fluttered the hem of Jannia's tunic. It almost felt like being outside. Now, away from the closed space of theAvaranda 's tiny lounge, the tension between the two women did not seem quite so oppressive. "I didn't mean to take Emarr away from you," Jannia said. "I didn't even mean to hurt him. I was bathing. Naked. Vulnerable. I turned around, and there was this strange man, big, wild looking, and half-naked himself. And the last man who'd caught me alone and vulnerable was Gandes. What the hell would you have done?" Merilee said nothing. "That was eight years ago," Jannia said. "I was fifteen. No older than Lirah. Emarr was barely twenty. You were-what, eighteen?" "Nineteen," Merilee corrected. "I'd been in the business two years, learning what a jerk the oh-so-glamorous much older brother I'd followed into space really was. I'd hoped Emarr and I could strike off on our own, forge our own partnership." "You mean like Aden and Vaia did?" "Vaia's part Kethrian. A monogamous relationship was an unnatural condition for her." "And Emarr's a-whatever the hell his species is. How do you know you would have been what he needed? Don't tell me you and he would be blissfully married right now if I hadn't come along, because there's no way you could know that." "You're right," Merilee said. Jannia stared at her, surprised at the admission. "There is no guarantee Emarr and I would be together if he hadn't met you. But chances are, he'd be with someone. I've known him a long time. Really known him, not just exchanged pleasantries once in a while before running the other way. He hasn't been with any one woman for longer than a few weeks. He told me once that whenever he got too close to someone, he felt like he was being unfaithful, that he was turning his back on his destiny. I even used to tell him he should make a move on you. I thought, maybe, once he'd been shot down in tiny flaming pieces he'd forget about this destiny nonsense and move on. Stop mooning over someone who didn't even care if he existed. Then he'd give me some crap about it not beingtime yet!" Jannia shrugged. "He was right." "But now, supposedly, it is time?" Jannia leaned back against the side of the ship. "I don't know. I don't know about this 'destiny' business either. I only know that after eight years, I finally feel like I may not be completely dead inside." Merilee shook her head. "Not completely dead inside. Just what every man wants in a woman." "What the hell do you want me to say, O'Hare?" Jannia demanded. "That I'm not going to hurt him? I can't promise that. No one can. That I love him? I'd like the chance to figure out what my feelings are before I have to defend them to you!" Merilee was silent for several seconds. She leaned against the ship, beside Jannia, and stared out into the hangar bay. "Do you have feelings for him?" she asked finally. Jannia looked down at her boots. "I have feelingsabout him. I don't know aboutfor yet." "I don't like this, Wise. You could do a lot more than hurt Emarr. You could shatter him." "My, aren't we melodramatic. He seems pretty durable to me." Jannia winced at her own words. Damned if she didn't sound as callous as O'Hare made her out to be.He's the strongest man I've ever known. Gah. That would have been worse. Didn't even sound like her, even if itwas true. "He's invested the entire meaning of his life in you, Wise. That gives you a lot of power. Too damn much. I've never understood what he sees in you..." "That makes two of us." Jannia straightened, and stood away from the ship. "I'm not backing off from this, O'Hare, so you can save your breath. Emarr's a grown man, capable of making his own choices, and he knows what he's doing. Stop acting like you're the one with things at stake. You're not." "Now I know you don't love him," Merilee said. "If you did, you'd understand what I have at stake." "Maybe." Jannia stuck her hands in her pockets and started to turn away. "But if I don't see this through, I may never have the chance to understand." She walked away. * * * Jannia sat in her chair on theIce Dagger 's bridge, and stared unseeing at the console in front of her. This was the day she was supposed to meet with Silas Kilborne. The meeting time was in four hours. She should be sitting with Emarr, discussing how they planned to deal with the perverted little playboy, instead of sitting here watching the dust settle. She was getting-well, maybe not worried, but at least annoyed. It was his old mistress they were planning to go after. His people they wanted to liberate, his homeworld they wanted to find. She had no intention of putting herself on the line if he couldn't even be bothered to show up. Of course, there was always the chance his ship had suffered one of those accidental course deviations that made hyperspace travel the thrill-a-minute adventure it was. She reached for the comm panel, to hail theAvaranda and ask Merilee if he hadn't maybe gone there first. She stopped herself before activating. O'Hare was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. Not when everything she'd said was still swirling around in Jannia's head. Whether Jannia liked to admit it or not, Merilee had made some good points. Jannia had never stopped to consider how this experiment of hers-for she could admit to herself what this was-might affect Emarr. No one had ever felt as strongly about her as he did. Not even her own mother. Even Gandes had only wanted her because he couldn't get Vaialora. Did she really have the right to use his feelings for her this way, when she had no idea if she could ever return them? A light on the comm panel flashed. A jolt of something that might almost have been relief shot through Jannia. She reached out and hit the controls. "I am here, Pale One." Jannia bit back a comment about the hated nickname. "About time. Come on up." She remote-activated the boarding ramp and got up to head for the lounge. Emarr was alone. Jannia swallowed a surge of disappointment, an emotion she didn't want to examine too closely. Whatever ambivalence she might feel about this whole situation with Emarr, she'd looked forward to seeing Akaril again. "Where's the kid?" she said, trying to sound casual. "I left her with Merilee. I did not wish to discuss our plans in her presence." Jannia nodded her understanding. "So how should we handle this? You haven't left us much time to plan." "I had to get this." Emarr dug a package out of the leather pouch attached by thongs to the waist of his pants. "It is difficult to find a skin dye dark enough, and opaque enough to effectively conceal my natural color. And it would not do for Kilborne to realize too soon what I am." "Of course not." Jannia had known some kind of a disguise would be necessary, and had fully expected him to take care of it. It just hadn't occurred to her that this would present any particular challenge to a man with his reputation in the business. "We need to discuss our game plan." "Game plan? We meet with this Kilborne. Evaluate him. How can we know how best to deal with him with nothing to go on but a description? Once we have his measure, we will determine a course of action. You will follow my lead." "I will follow your lead," Jannia parroted sarcastically. "May I remind you whose cover is at stake here?" "May I remind you whose people are being enslaved?" Emarr countered. "May I remind you which of us is better equipped to evaluate to what extent a man can be trusted?" "What, because I'm not an empath my instincts aren't worth recycler sludge? Thanks a lot, Dengas." "I did not mean to imply that, Pale One." Jannia pressed her lips together and did not reply. "What is wrong with recognizing that I possess an asset that you do not?" Emarr asked. "You must learn to trust someone besides yourself." "I worked with the same partner for over seven years. You think I didn't trust her?" Now it was Emarr's turn to be silent. "You make too many assumptions, Mr. Destiny," Jannia said. Emarr stiffened. "That's right," Jannia continued. "Merilee told me all about this bizarre religious fixation of yours. Get over it. I have no intention of taking responsibility for your bloody destiny." "Even if my destiny is to do precisely what you have asked me to do? To help you heal?" "And then if I can't heal, if I'll always be the same cold-hearted, screwed-up bitch I am right now, I'll have failed you somehow. No thank you. I don't want that on my head. Maybe we should just forget about this whole stupid thing." "No." Emarr reached for her. His fingers hovered millimeters from her shoulder, and she braced herself for his touch. "We will not speak again of destiny. But please accept what I am trying to do for you. Not for my sake. For yours." His hand fell away without touching her. "Okay," she said. "Just as long as you remember that this is about me, not you." Emarr nodded. He held out the package containing the skin dye that would form the basis for his disguise. "Where can I put this on?" "Use Lirah's-I mean, the passenger cabin," Jannia said. "Don't take too long." CHAPTER 8 ========= Jannia tossed aside her datapad in frustration. A glance at the ship's chronometer told her that only five more minutes had passed. It felt like an eon. The allotted time for her rendezvous with Silas Kilborne was in less than an hour. She glanced down the corridor toward the living quarters. What was keeping him? He'd been shut up in her passenger cabin for over forty-five minutes. How long did it take to slap on some hair and skin dye? The light on the comm console blinked golden, the color for an intra-ship message. Jannia hit the receiver button with the edge of her hand. "What?" Emarr's voice issued from the speaker, sounding rough with frustration. "I need your assistance." "Coming." Jannia got up and made her way down the corridor to the guest cabin. She reached for the door controls, then hesitated. She hit the comm button instead. "You decent in there?" "I am clothed, if that is what you mean." Right. Like Emarr was ever "clothed." He flaunted that magnificent chest of his before the whole galaxy like it was some kind of work of art. Shaking her head, Jannia keyed open the door. Emarr stood in the middle of the cabin like some dark pagan god. Kethrian, Jannia thought, though no male Kethrian could ever hope to match Emarr's size, or the sculpted perfection of his blatantly male body. No, he looked more like some ancient Terran warrior. His hair, freed from its braids and dyed a rich shining black, hung around his shoulders like a cloak. Jannia stood transfixed. It wasn't as though she had never seen Emarr's body before. She had known him the better part of eight years, and in that time she'd seen him with a shirt on maybe twice. But now, with this change, she could truly see him for the first time. Not as an irritatingly courtly acquaintance whose unrequited feelings for her made her squirm with discomfort. Not as an empath whose touch she could somehow almost tolerate, whose talents might hold the key to healing her. As a man. A beautiful, powerful man. Wild and strong. Compelling. Terrifying. "You wanted my help with something?" Jannia managed when her voice returned from wherever it had gone. "Yes, if you do not mind." Emarr turned to pick up the bottle of skin dye, and it was then that she saw his back. To Emarr's credit, he'd managed to apply the dye fairly evenly to his neck, and to slather a bit on his shoulders as well. His back was another matter. Here and there finger-width smears of dark brown tapered off, exposing steaks of his own rich green. A large amorphous patch in the middle of his back he hadn't reached at all. Jannia tried to focus on the mess he'd made of it, and not on the tight muscles rippling under that bicolored skin. "Why don't you just wear a shirt for a change?" Emarr turned back to face her. "I own exactly one shirt. It is a loose weave. This mess-" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder "-would show through it, and we have no way of acquiring another. There are no shops on this station as there are on Beckhaven." He turned his back to her again, bent over and braced his hands against the bed so she could more easily reach all of him. Jannia frowned. "Do you have gloves or something? I don't want to wind up looking like I've had a poorly matched hand transplant." "On the night stand." Jannia picked up the flimsy-looking things and frowned at them. Thin and translucent, they looked small enough to fit Akaril. Carefully, she pulled one on. The material was stronger than it looked. The glove stretched, molding perfectly to the contours of her hand like an extra layer of skin. She pulled on the other one and approached Emarr with the dye bottle. She uncapped the bottle and frowned again. "No applicator?" Emarr shook his head, and the muscles of his neck and shoulders rippled with the motion. "It rubs in. The warmth and friction of the hands seem to help the dye bond to the skin." That would explain the gloves' special material. Jannia poured a generous dollop of the viscous dye into her open palm. Bracing herself for the reflexive unease that always accompanied close physical contact, she reached out to brush his long thick hair out of the way. It felt soft against her fingers, smooth and cool as silk. Startled, she jerked back her hand. She stared at her fingers. Yes, the glove was on. Its translucent material made her skin appear noticeably darker. Surgical gloves. Like the ones worn by the doctors who had pieced her back together after Gandes's attack. Designed to protect doctor and patient from the inadvertent transmission of disease without reducing sensitivity in the surgeon's hands. "Pale One? Is something wrong?" "No." She reached out again to brush his hair aside, and smeared a generous handful of the skin dye across his shoulders. It seemed to rest on the surface of his skin, leaving streaks of his own leaf-green where her fingers had brushed through it. "You have to rub," Emarr instructed. "Friction activates the dye's cellular bonding properties." Jannia closed her eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath. She could do this. She didn't really want to throw the bottle at him and run as far from him as she could get. There was no reason she couldn't stroke her hands over his warm bare skin. She wanted to. She wasn't afraid at all. Right. And Kerra Locke was the village idiot. Emarr glanced over his shoulder. "If this is too difficult for you, we can contact Merilee-" Was that a note of challenge she heard in his voice? Jannia shook her head. She leaned closer to him, bracing her legs against the edge of the bed for balance as her fingers worked the dye into his skin. He felt warm and smooth under her hands, and his muscles were tight and hard. Tense. He held himself rigidly still as she massaged the dye into his shoulders. Jannia reached for the bottle to pour more into her hand. Her fingers trembled. The bottle tipped too far, missing her cupped palm and splashing dye on her tunic and on the bed. She cursed. Somehow she managed to get some more dye into her hand, and turned back to him. Emarr flinched as the dye's cold wetness met his skin-skin heated by the friction of Jannia's stroking hands, and by the rushing heat of his growing arousal. His fingers clenched on the bedcover as he fought to keep the tide of desire rising in him from breaking through the mental barrier he struggled to maintain. The feel of her hands, rubbing and stroking on his bare skin-it was the most tempting of pleasures, and the most exquisite of tortures. How he wanted to feel her hands all over him, and not just on his back! How he wanted to turn around and take her in his arms, and touch her skin as she touched his. But he could not. He could feel her unease, her ambivalence, even as he struggled to keep his growing lust from reaching her. Every touch, every stroke was an effort of will for her. He marveled at the courage it required of her-and he marveled that, broken as she was, the courage still lived inside her. "Almost finished," Jannia said, as she reached for the bottle one last time. Her voice sounded tight and husky. Her fingers trembled hard as they brushed the cool dye against the exquisitely sensitive skin of his lower back. Emarr closed his eyes and ground his teeth together, trying desperately to ignore the swelling heat in his loins. He muttered something in his native tongue-a prayer to the gods to enhance his crumbling self-control. "What did you say?" Jannia shifted her weight, bracing one knee on the bed as she brought both hands to bear on a stubborn spot near the base of his spine. Her thigh brushed his hip. He fisted his hands in the bedcover and cursed hoarsely. * * * Jannia backed away, staring at the broad strong expanse of Emarr's back. God. She sucked in a quick hard breath, struggling to bring her pounding, throbbing heart back under control. Her thigh tingled where it had brushed against him. Other places tingled too, parts of her that had never touched him. Places that ached for his touch now, even as her mind and heart screamedno! He had lost control. That had to be it. There was no way that powerful explosion of need, of desire, could have come from within her. She did not feel such things. Could not. Jannia felt coldness against her back. Realized she had retreated as far as she could go, without fumbling for the door controls and fleeing like a terrified animal. Swallowing hard, she fought to reclaim her dignity. As she retreated Emarr had turned to face her. "Do not," he commanded softly, his warm brown eyes-the only feature still truly his own-watching her with compassion and concern...and a desire he could not quite manage to mask. "You did this," she accused. "You made me feel this. It isn't real." Emarr slowly shook his head. "I will not deny what your touch does to me, Pale One. But I know the taste of my own passion from another's. What you felt came from within you." Jannia raised her hands as if to push his words away from her. "No. It isn't possible." Emarr took a step toward her. "What is wrong? Is this not what you wanted? You came to me seeking to reclaim what Gandes took from you. And yet you reject the first sign that this might be possible." "It's too soon." Jannia's voice was hard and cold with the effort not to sound afraid. "Too fast." "You wanted to be intimate with me that first night," Emarr reminded her. "But now it is too soon?" He took another step toward her, holding out his hands. "Come here, Jannia." "No." She moved toward the door. "We don't have time for this. It's almost time to meet with Kilborne." Emarr sighed heavily, and let his hands fall back to his sides. "So it is." * * * The common room on Crossroads Station had seen better days, but not recently. Some of the tables had been smashed in and repaired so many times they contained more adhesive than original material. The place stank of spilled intoxicants-and spilled bodily fluids. A drunken, stinking Kovarin lurched into their path as she and Emarr approached the bar. Emarr tried to edge past him. A pair of belligerently gesticulating Amardel took that moment to force their way by. They slammed up against the tottering Kovarin, and he lost his balance. He grabbed at the nearest solid object for support. An object that just happened to be Jannia. She jerked back from his clutching fingers, fighting back the panic that burst inside her. Emarr caught the Kovarin's arms in a firm grip and pulled him away from her, setting the noseless being firmly on his feet. Jannia took a quick, deep breath. It was all right. Just a clumsy drunk. No reason for her heart to pound like an Olaret war drum. "Are you all right?" Emarr asked when the Kovarin had gone tottering on his way. Jannia nodded quickly. Probably too quickly, judging from the knowing look on Emarr's face. "Stay close to me," he said, reaching for her hand. She opened her mouth to retort that she didn't need his protection. That she'd been taking care of herself in similar circumstances for quite a while now. She closed it, the words unspoken. He knew that. She glanced down at his outstretched hand. His fingers were strong and well shaped. It was a powerful, masculine hand, but gentle enough to cup a child's head as though it was a fragile and precious flower. She reached out, and let his hand claim hers. A calming warmth brushed against her soul like a caress. Her heart's pounding slowed. Jannia looked up into Emarr's face. "Don't do that." "As you wish." The odd warmth retreated, and a little of the tightness in her chest and throat returned. The feel of Emarr's hand clasping hers was strange and disturbing. But she didn't pull away. Jannia stuck close to Emarr's side as they continued through the crowded common room, her fingers curled around his hand. His broad shoulders, angled strategically into the crowd, created a convenient wake for her to follow in, minimizing her contact with unwelcome elbows. She reached the bar in half the time it would have taken her alone, and in a much better frame of mind. * * * The grizzled, gray-skinned bartender with his gravelly, ruined voice had been a fixture at Crossroads for as long as Emarr had known the place. Emarr showed the being his credit chip and inclined his head in Jannia's direction, indicating that she should order. "Wine," she said. "Any color but green." "What is wrong with green?" Emarr asked. "The flavor. It's sweet, but very strong, with a wild quality that can be a little overpowering." Emarr smiled. "Strong, sweet and wild. Yes, I would say that describes 'green' quite well." Jannia pressed her lips together and looked away. "And for you?" the bartender said. "Something cool, with a strong bite," Emarr answered. Jannia shook her head slightly, something that might have been a smile curving her lip. "I'll see what I can do," grouched the bartender, turning to rummage around on the shelves behind him. "Ishould bite you," Jannia said. "I really was talking about the wine." "Of that I have no doubt," Emarr said. He reached for her hand where it rested on the bar and covered it with his. "How do you know I was not?" She looked at him sharply. "Please, Dengas." "Emarr." "When you stop calling me 'Pale One', I'll start calling you Emarr." The bartender turned back with a bottle in each hand. He poured Jannia a glass of bright blue wine, and Emarr a mug of something opaque and yellow, with chunks of something floating in it. Jannia stared at Emarr's drink. "What the hell is that?" "Fermented zhai-milk." Emarr leaned over and sniffed it suspiciously, then took a tentative sip. He turned, if possible, greener than before. "I asked for something with a bite," Emarr said, shoving the drink as far from him as he could manage without knocking it onto the bartender's feet. "Not something that requires chewing. Just give me what she has." A moment later, each holding a glass of blue wine, they went in search of a table. "If that bartender realized your drink request referred to your choice of companions, I'm not flattered," Jannia said as they selected a table with a good view of both the bar and the entrance. "I don't seem that sour, do I?" Emarr took a sip of his drink and said nothing. "Thanks a lot. And this is what someone who likes me thinks?" "I do not like you." Jannia, who had just raised her glass to her lips, choked. Her eyes goggled as blue wine sprayed out her nose. "What?" she demanded, mopping at her nose with the napkin her drink had rested on. "What do you mean, you don't like me?" "Ilike Kerra Locke," Emarr said. "Ilike Merilee O'Hare." Jannia snorted. "Tell me one I don't know." Emarr raised his cup to his lips to hide a smile. So. There was jealousy there. Ironic. It was Jannia who had ended whatever might have been between Emarr and Merilee. Emarr had been with other women in the years between their meeting and Gandes's death, but it would have been wrong to make Merilee one of them. She had loved him. To be intimate with her when his heart belonged to another could only end with his hurting her even more than he already had. "I know you are not ready to accept my feelings for what they are-" Emarr began. "There you go again, thinking you know what's best for everybody," Jannia said. "Why don't you let me decide what I'm ready to accept? You want me to say it out loud?" "Pale One-" "You're in love with me. You fell in love with me that first day, when I brained you with an urn. This leads me to believe that I damaged your brain more than the doctors realized." Emarr smiled at that. "Perhaps so." "I appreciate your not trying to pursue these feelings. Before I came to you, I mean." "There would have been little point," Emarr said. "You would have rejected me. Probably with a great deal of force. I had no need of another scar to match this one." He rubbed at the jagged white line on his temple. "You're lucky," Jannia murmured. "Your scars are visible." "Not all of them." He took a long swallow of his drink. "I am more like you than you realize, Pale One." "Jannia," she corrected, almost absentmindedly. She scanned the crowd, grateful for a legitimate opportunity to avoid Emarr's intense gaze. There was no sign, yet, of anyone matching the description Ziala had given her. "If this man is as wealthy and powerful as Ziala has said, he cannot simply disappear." Emarr laid his hand beside, if not on, Jannia's to reclaim her attention. "We must somehow convince him not to alert Ziala to your duplicity." Jannia reluctantly turned back. She stared down at his hand rather than risk eye contact again so soon. "Do you think your empathic talents are strong enough to...you know..." Emarr frowned. "Influence him, as Akaril does? I do not know. Even if I could ensure he would not detect my tampering, there would be no way to know for certain if the compulsion had taken hold. Are you willing to take such a risk?" Jannia reached for her drink and laced her fingers around the stem of the glass. "It was a risk to get involved in this situation at all. I don't know why I didn't just deliver Lirah to you and fly the other way." Emarr reached out to brush his fingers across hers in the gentlest of touches. "I know. You are neither so hard nor so cold as you would have the universe believe. It is not in you to stand by and do nothing, to allow some other young girl to face the same fate from which you saved the Alorai. Particularly not having lived through what you have." Jannia looked up from her drink and forced herself to meet Emarr's gaze. "How can you be so sure what I'm like on the inside? You admit your empathic skills aren't completely reliable. There are things going on inside me that even I don't understand." "It is true I cannot sense everything you feel," Emarr admitted. "But what I have seen, I know is real. Your courage. Your strength. Your compassion for the Alorai girl. Even the attraction you feel toward me, though you still fear its expression. As for what I cannot sense-Akaril sees more deeply than I do. I trust her sensitivity, even at those times when I cannot trust my own." "That's a lot of faith to place in a little kid." "Perhaps." Something in Emarr's tone seemed to negate that concession. "Faith does not come easily to you, does it? Nor does trust." Jannia shrugged. "There haven't been many people in my life who deserved trust. Not my parents. Not most of my so-called friends. Aden Locke and Vaia Kondi, maybe-" "But even they failed you when it mattered." Emarr spoke so softly that Jannia did not know if she truly heard the words, or only knew, somehow, that that was what he would say. She shook her head, rejecting his words. "No. They had no way to know Gandes had returned. It wasn't their fault." "They failed to protect you," Emarr said. "Vaialora was too much a slave to her Kethrian passions to see to the safety of a young girl under her care. She lacked even the sensitivity to choose a man other than the one your maiden heart thought itself in love with. They abandoned you. Left you vulnerable to a hormonally deranged monster-" Jannia shook her head violently. "No. It wasn't their fault. They cared about me. They were the only ones who stood by me, afterward. How could I blame them? There was no way-" Emarr reached for her hands. Numbly, she looked down and watched his fingers twine with hers. Her fingers felt cold, numb, and she couldn't feel his hands in hers. "But you did blame them," Emarr whispered. "You did not want to, but you did. You hated them at first. Then, as time went on, it became easier to feel nothing than to hate the only people who still cared about you." Jannia swallowed hard, still shaking her head in rejection of his words. Her eyes burned. Stung. "You can't see all that. There's no way you can. Vaia is-was my partner. Locke was the only man I ever cared for. Including my own father. I could never hate them. Quit putting feelings in my head that aren't there!" She jerked her hands out of his grip. Pushed back her chair. She had to get away. He had no business poking around in her head, dredging up feelings she couldn't afford to acknowledge. He didn't know anything about her feelings toward Aden and Vaia. He didn't know anything at all. Fingers strong as tree roots curled around Jannia's wrist, stopping her retreat. "There," Emarr said, jerking his head toward the bar. "I believe I see our target." Jannia forced herself to swallow her anger, her confusion and turned her head to look. He stood at the bar, glancing nervously around him-a slender, well-dressed Human, shorter than average, with short, neatly trimmed blond hair. His smooth boyish features exactly matched those in the holo Ziala had given her. Silas Kilborne. Here, now, was a man she need feel no guilt about hating. Surely a man with Kilborne's looks, his money, would have no difficulty luring any number of women to his bed. So it could only be Lirah's very unwillingness, her status as his slave, his property, that appealed to his twisted desires. Jannia's gut twisted with nausea at the sight of him. "Control it." Emarr's voice was low and urgent. "You are Ziala's right-hand woman. You are as cold and uncaring as she is. You do not care what this Kilborne plans to do with his acquisition, as long as you get paid." "Right," Jannia muttered. "In other words, just be myself." "That is not your self," Emarr corrected. "That is the mask you wear. But right now, you need that mask." He released her wrist and got to his feet. "Let us deal with this bastard." * * * A thin trickle of ice-cold sweat ran down the back of Silas's neck as the woman approached. His hand, clutching his drink like a lifeline, trembled so hard that the cold liquor sloshed over his fingers. When that McGann woman contacted him to let him know her agent would be making the delivery, he'd been relieved. The hard calculation in her eyes, combined with her cool predatory sexuality had at once aroused and nauseated him. But by God, this one looked even worse. She was pale and gaunt, dressed all in black, with the coldest eyes he had ever seen. When Silas was a child, he'd had nightmares of a vampire woman who had come to take his blood, his soul. This woman looked just like her. It was easy to imagine the tall dark man at her side as her minion, held in thrall by her dark powers. Silas's lip twisted at the thought. Right. The last thing he needed now was to lose his grip on reality. The woman stopped in front of him, her companion-a bodyguard, perhaps?--stopping just a few inches behind her. "Silas Kilborne." She didn't even bother extending a hand. Her cold dark gaze skimmed over him as though he was nothing. Less than nothing. "Yes." He tried to keep his voice level. "You're Captain McGann's agent?" The woman nodded. Silas wasn't surprised when she didn't volunteer her name. "Do you have the merchandise?" Silas struggled to keep the desperation out of his voice. No reason to tempt her into raising the price. He would pay anything, any price. But she didn't need to know that. "If you have the payment," the woman said. Somehow, Silas managed to keep his voice as cool as hers. "I don't have the money on me, of course. You'll receive payment when I see the-merchandise." The word, which he'd somehow managed to say normally the first time, came out jagged and cracked. The woman seemed not to notice. Behind her, the man's eyes narrowed. "The merchandise will be delivered on payment," the woman said. "Not before. If you have a problem with that, I'm sure I'll have no problem finding another buyer." She turned to leave. "Wait," Silas cried-then winced as he heard the desperation in his own voice. And hoped he'd brought enough credits with him to handle the inevitable price increase. "I have a suite on Level Nine. Come back with me and you'll get your payment. Then I'll go with you to collect the merchandise, just in case you have any ideas about forgetting to come back." The woman glanced at her companion. He made no movement, no outward indication that he cared one way or the other. The woman nodded. "Agreed." * * * Silas Kilborne's suite would, of course, be the largest and most luxurious on Crossroads Station. Jannia glanced around as she entered. Size and luxury, like everything else in the universe, were relative. The furnishings in Kilborne's suite were new, clean and had some color to them. A doorless opening in the opposite wall, beside the sanitory, gave evidence that the room did-barely-qualify as a suite. She wondered how much the station administrators had extorted from him for it. Kilborne shifted nervously from foot to foot as the door slid closed behind his guests. He eyed them as if he half expected them to pull out a gigantic knife and fork. He'd been trying so hard to seem cool at first, but when she'd bluffed, let him believe she might leave without making the delivery, his veneer of composure had shattered like-like a clay urn hurled against a man's skull. "Can I get you anything?" Kilborne asked. "A drink?" "Just get on with it." The little man swallowed and nodded. "All right. My credit chip's in the other room. I'll just go get it. You two-ah-make yourselves-um-comfortable." I don't think so.Jannia meant to speak the words out loud. A light, unexpected brush against the edges of her mind stilled her tongue. She glanced quickly at Emarr. He stood there behind her looking as hard and impassive as a statue, but there was a satisfied speculation to the flavor of his mind-touch. "Don't do that," she breathed in a hissing whisper when Kilborne had left the room. "Dammit, Dengas, stay out of my head unless you're invited." "There is more going on here than what we had assumed, Pale One," Emarr said softly. "Kilborne is more than nervous. He is terrified, and not for himself. There is someone else here." Jannia scowled. "The instructions were explicit. He was to come here alone." The sound of footfalls from the other room silenced further discussion. Kilborne came out and extended the credit chip at arm's length, as though getting any closer to them might contaminate him somehow. "It's all here. The full amount. Now we'll go together and collect my empath, if you don't mind." Jannia took the chip from his hand and pocketed it. "Actually," she said casually, "we won't." She drew her blaster. "You were told to come alone, Kilborne. Who do you have in there? If you've betrayed us to the authorities-" Kilborne took a reflexive step backward, hands outstretched in defense and protest. "No. Please. It isn't like that. I couldn't leave him behind. He needs me. I'm all he has." His voice cracked harshly, and Jannia begged the God she hadn't believed in for years that he wasn't going to cry. If that bastard started to cry, she was going to lose what little lunch she'd eaten. Emarr gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "Lower your blaster, Pale One. There is no betrayal." When she hesitated, he reached out with his free hand and plucked the weapon from her fingers. "I believe we have been working under a false assumption." CHAPTER 9 ========= Emarr's gaze rested on Kilborne with what almost looked like understanding, like compassion. "Bring out the child," he said. "Child?" Jannia echoed blankly. Kilborne just stood there, glancing uneasily from Emarr to Jannia and back again. "How did you know-I never even told Captain McGann." "It is a simple matter to recognize in another what one sees in oneself," Emarr said. "I, too, would do anything, risk anything, to take away my child's suffering. Now, bring out the child. You have my word, as a father and an honorable man, that neither you nor he will be harmed." Kilborne's eyes widened. "Stars. You're one of them. An empath. But the one McGann showed me was green." "Skin dye," Jannia said. Kilborne drew in a hissing breath through his teeth. Emarr looked at him. The smaller man sighed, and seemed to relax. "All right." He vanished back into the other room. Jannia shook her head slowly. "Another kid. Of course there's another kid. It's some kind of conspiracy." A slow smile formed on Emarr's face. "You like children," he accused. "Yeah. Right." Kilborne appeared in the doorway, his hands braced on a little boy's thin shoulders. The child was not entirely Human, Jannia realized, taking in his unusually large eyes and pale, feathery brows. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember what race possessed those traits. "This is Taben," Kilborne said simply. "My son." Jannia watched as Emarr got down on one knee before the silent, staring child. Slowly and gently, he raised a hand to touch the boy's cheek. The child flinched away, backing hard into his father's legs and hissing like a terrified cat. Emarr stayed where he was and simply looked at the child. Slowly, the boy stopped trying to become one with his father's knees. The tension seemed to drain from his body, and the wildness left his eyes. This time, when Emarr reached out to touch him, he allowed it. "How long has he been like this?" Emarr asked. "He and his mother were visiting Odar when the Daranac attacked, two years ago. My wife, her parents, and most of their town were killed in the assault. Taben was injured, but survived. He spent days in that house, alone with the broken bodies of our family. Since then, he has been like this. He's lost what language and social development he had. Not that he was exactly normal before, you understand. He's a hybrid of two very different species, and his brain chemistry is close to unique." He looked down, stroking the boy's tousled blond hair, the same color as his own. "He's a very special little boy." "But the medications to treat emotional trauma are specific to the brain chemistries of specific species, or common hybrid types," Jannia filled in. "There wouldn't be a treatment in place for a Human-Odari hybrid." Kilborne nodded. "Taben was not a planned child, you see. I was young when I met his mother. Young and reckless. Surely a species as different as the Odari could not be genetically compatible with Humans. It is a mystery why any humanoid species are compatible at all. I didn't think I could get her pregnant. I was wrong." He grew quiet then, biting down hard on his lip. His gaze moved from Emarr to Jannia, pleading for understanding. "In her culture, she could have been put to death for having a child outside of marriage, and aborting the child was likewise out of the question. So I married her, and we had the child. He will be infertile, of course, and his brain function has always been impaired. Still, he was a happy child. Sweet. Loving. His mother never quite accepted him. Considered his birth, his condition, a punishment for her sins. But I loved him from the first time I held him in my arms. You can't know how much it hurts me to see him like this." "That doesn't excuse having a young girl stolen from her family, put in binders, taken somewhere she doesn't know the language-" "I chose the age and gender of the empath I wanted very carefully. Taben reacts better to females than males. And the young are more resilient, more adaptable, and there would be less chance I was depriving some other poor baby of a parent." "And the other potential uses of a teenage girl who's a projective empath never occurred to you?" Sarcasm dripped from Jannia's teeth like venom. Kilborne met Jannia's gaze; his jaw set in fierce paternal defiance. "I don't expect you to understand, but I'm not sorry for what I tried to do. I'd do it again. So I contracted to buy an empath. Yes, I allowed McGann to believe I wanted one for sexual purposes. But if she had known how desperate I was, she might have raised her price. I may be known as one of the wealthiest men in the quadrant, but that's not strictly true. I lost my wife in the Odari war, but I also lost most of my holdings on that world. I've spent millions of credits trying to find a treatment for Taben. I admit I'm still far from bankrupt-but then, Taben is still far from well. "I've had him to empathic therapists of other species. They did a wonderful job of exploring what was going on in Taben's poor little head, what kinds of stimuli to avoid. But there's only so much a purely receptive empath can do. Receptive empathy, as it was explained to me, is like looking in a window. Taben needs someone who can get in the door." Emarr brushed his fingers once more across Taben's smooth cheek before getting to his feet. "You realize we cannot simply turn a sentient being over to you like a shipment of data tapes. The girl was taken from her home against her will. We-Captain Wise and I-intend to return her to the homeworld if we can." He glanced at Jannia. "Give him back the credit chip." Jannia glared at him. "You have to be kidding. This is the big plan? Give him back his money and let him go? You heard him. He'll do anything to heal his kid. The second we're out of here he'll be tracking Ziala down again, looking for another empath, and there goes my cover. You're not even planning to 'influence' him, are you?" "It would not work," Emarr answered. "His focus is too strong. His mind would automatically reject any compulsion that was in conflict with his desire to heal the boy." Emarr held out his hand. "The chip. Please." "No bloody way. Maybe you're willing to forgive this guy for what he was going to do-he was only going to do it to anAlorai, after all-" "This has nothing to do with the girl's race." "You define her by her race. You're so keen on assigning names to every other woman. Pale One. Angel. Maiden. What do you call Lirah? Alorai. She's not a person to you." "It is a convenient description, nothing more. You know why I would not be comfortable using her name, and it has little to do with prejudice." "Then why would you just let this man go, after what he did to her? It's on his hands as much as Ziala's." "And so we should what? Punish him? What could we do to him that would not make the boy suffer, as well? No. He wronged the girl badly, but nothing we did to him would undo that wrong. All we can do is to address the reasons why he did it." He turned to Kilborne. "The gods have heard your prayers this day, Silas Kilborne. Captain Wise and I are good friends with a woman who is, arguably, the most gifted biochemist in the galaxy. Dr. Kerra Locke is a woman of great compassion, and one who cannot resist a challenge. You will find her on the planet Kethry, where she is conducting research into the effects of Kethrian bonding pheromones on the male humanoid brain. She might be persuaded to direct some effort toward devising a treatment for your son, especially in exchange for your offer to fund her research. In addition, I would be pleased to spend some time working with Taben, once Ziala McGann's slavery operation has been shut down." "Wait a second, Dengas. What makes you think you can trust this man once he's out of your sight? What's to stop him from tracking Ziala down and telling her all about this lovely conversation?" "I have seen into-" "His heart? Give me a break. The expression 'a change of heart' exists for a reason. We need some sort of guarantee." "So what do you suggest?" "Use O'Hare. She's already agreed to watch the girls for us. She can just escort Kilborne to Kethry while she's at it." "Just a minute," Kilborne broke in. "I haven't even agreed to what you're offering. I've gone this route before. I poured millions of dollars into research, with nothing to show for it. How do you know this friend of yours will be any different?" "How do you know a frightened teenage girl who doesn't even speak your language will be any help?" Jannia countered. "Here's the deal, Kilborne. You take your kid to Kerra Locke on Kethry, and you swear on his life that you won't breathe a word about us to McGann, or I stun you and stuff you in a stasis locker down on the storage level for a few months. But don't worry. I'll take care of your sonpersonally ." She gave him her coldest not-quite-smile. Kilborne paled visibly and averted his eyes. "Do you really think this Dr. Locke can come up with a treatment based on Taben's brain chemistry?" "If anyone can," Emarr said. "And you have my promise to do what I can for him, as well." Kilborne looked down at Taben as if seeking the silent child's approval. "You've been kinder than I have any right to expect. Okay. I'll try this friend of yours." * * * "You've got to be kidding." Merilee regarded Emarr the way she might a particularly vile species of rodent invading her cargo hold. "You've foisted off two kids on me already-two kids I'm somehow supposed to keep separated, on a two-cabin ship, because the older one thinks the younger one's a witch. Now you expect me to take on another kid-a mentally challenged, emotionally disturbed one-and his father, notable for having tried tobuy one of the girls. And I suppose you see nothing wrong with this plan." "You didn't hear the original plan," Jannia interjected. "Trust me, this one's an improvement." The look Merilee shother might well have been reserved for the excrement of the rodent in question. "Why do I get the impression this was your idea?" Jannia shrugged. "We needed someone we can trust. You're the only one in the vicinity matching that description." "Right.You trust me." Jannia rolled her eyes. "I don'tlike you. I'm not the one who gets those concepts mixed up." "You know she speaks the truth, Angel," Emarr cut in. His voice was low and soothing. Jannia wondered if he was soothing O'Hare with something more than his voice. "Who else could we ask? One of the smugglers based here, who would happily change destinations for a small 'donation' from Kilborne?" Kilborne, standing silently and nervously behind Emarr, made a small sound of protest at these words. Merilee, who'd ignored him until now, fixed him with a cold level gaze. A maggot in the rodent's droppings,Jannia thought. "You'll have to take your chances," Merilee said. "I don't have room for him on my ship. I don'twant him on my ship." "I have a vessel of my own," Kilborne said. "Probably not so fast or fuel-efficient as one belonging to a smuggler of your caliber-" "He has a silver tongue, this guy," Merilee cut in, still refusing to address Kilborne directly. "I can cut it out for you if you like," Jannia offered. "If it would make things easier." Merilee almost smiled at the dark joke before she caught herself, covering the telltale lip- twitch with a scowl. "It's tempting." Jannia's own lip twitched in response. Kilborne swallowed. "What kind of ship?" Emarr asked, ignoring the women's comments. "Ideally, the girls' cabins should be separated. And my daughter's should be as far from your son's as possible. His emotional distress would be very uncomfortable for her, perhaps even damaging." "And Lirah's should be on the opposite end of the ship from yours, with O'Hare's in between," Jannia added. "Just in case you get any ideas." "Wait a moment!" Merilee protested. "Not only have Inot agreed to this, we never even discussed the idea of my leaving theAvaranda here. She'll be stolen, or stripped down for parts-" "My pilot can bring your ship to Kethry," Kilborne offered, "and you can fly mine. It's a good ship. Comfortable. Spacious. Six cabins, three sanitories, a private guest lounge. Plenty of room for all. You could claim your own ship again when we reach our destination." Merilee glared at Emarr. "Now you're asking me to let a stranger fly my ship. Anything else you want to add? Internal organs you want me to donate?" "I know this is a large favor-" Emarr began. Jannia dug in her pocket and withdrew the credit chip, glad she'd managed to keep possession of it. Emarr might forget whose sister Merilee was, but Jannia never would. Ryan O'Hare never did anything without first determining what was in it for him. And his little sister was noangel either. She tossed the chip to Merilee, who caught it automatically. She opened her hand to see what she'd caught, and regarded the other woman with a strange expression, as if she couldn't decide whether to be offended or grateful. "Itis too much to ask as afavor ," Jannia said. "So we'll make it a contract. Safe delivery of Kilborne and his son to Kerra Locke on Kethry, using Kilborne's ship, in exchange for the credits on that chip." "That money was to have been returned to Kilborne," Emarr protested. "A donation to fund Kerra's research, in exchange for her help." "Kilborne has other money, and O'Hare has a whole boatload of valid objections. There are limits to what a person should be asked to do in the name of unrequited love." "You heard her say that, Emarr. I'm a witness." Merilee tossed the chip back to Jannia. "Thanks for the thought, Wise. But I'm not doing this for love or money." Jannia opened up her mouth to protest, but Merilee's grin stopped her. "I'm doing it so you'll owe me." * * * "But I don't want to go with Mr. Kilborne and Captain O'Hare." Akaril's strong little arms wrapped so tight around Emarr's neck it was hard for him to breathe. They were alone in the cabin that would be hers as long as she stayed on Kilborne's ship, a secluded one aft of the guest lounge. "I want to go with you and Captain Wise. Why can't I? I'll be good. I'll stay on the ship. I'll clean my cabin without being asked. I'll cleanyour cabin." Emarr held her, letting her protests pour forth and feeling the love behind them. He stroked the soft fine silk of her hair, breathed in her sweet, little-girl scent, and spoke not a word. There was nothing he could say to make this child he loved understand why he was leaving her behind. And so he simply held her, and opened his heart, linking his empathic sense to hers. He let her feel his love, his pride in her resilient young spirit, his need to care for and protect her always. She was his daughter, the child of his heart. He might leave for a time, but he would always come back to her. For as long as he could... If she sensed the caveat, there was no indication. Her verbal protests trailed off, and her death-grip on his throat eased. Of course he would come back to her. How silly she had been to forget how much he loved her. He was her Kavay. She raised her tear-soaked face to look at him. "Will you bring me something when you come back?" "If you behave for Captain O'Hare, and abide by the rules we discussed." Slowly, Akaril nodded. "I'll be good. I promise." Emarr smiled, sending her his approval across their empathic link, while trying not to let her see how desperately he would miss her. "Time to go, Dengas," said Jannia softly from the corridor lounge outside. "Kilborne wants to be under way before his kid's bedtime." Emarr set Akaril gently on her feet and picked up the case that contained his belongings, retrieved from his own ship. Jannia held out her hand and pulled the little girl into a quick, tight hug. "See you, kiddo." If she released the child a little too quickly, Akaril did not seem to mind. Emarr closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer to his gods to watch over the child. And the other girl, too. Then he followed Jannia off the ship. * * * "You're paying for the fuel from here to Mercala," Jannia said, preceding Emarr onto theIce Daggerafter dropping off the girls. "I'll handle refueling for our next stop, if necessary. I don't know how long it will take to get my hands on the location of your homeworld. It may take a few more deliveries before I can earn Ziala's trust." Emarr set his case down as the hatch closed behind them. "I believe we have more immediate matters to discuss than who will pay for fuel when, Pale One." Jannia turned to him, her arms folded over her breasts. "Such as?" "While taking a single ship to Mercala does save on fuel, we both know that is not the only reason we are doing so." He nudged the case with the toe of his boot. "We need to discuss in which cabin I will be keeping my things." Jannia looked down at the case as though afraid it might explode. "This is the first real chance we have had to be alone," Emarr said. "Do you still want my help in reclaiming your sexuality?" Jannia looked up at him, not quite meeting his eyes. Slowly, after much too long, she nodded. "It may still be too soon. Your fear is strong. But your trust in me is growing. We came through an awkward, difficult situation, and dealt with it together, compromising, as partners do. We have touched. And whether you believe it or not, the desire you felt earlier, in your passenger cabin, was your own." Jannia pressed her lips together, and Emarr could see the skepticism in her eyes. "I made a mistake, that first night you came to me," Emarr admitted quietly. "I only meant to show you that it was not yet time. But I was tactless-an unforgivable offense for an empath. I will not repeat that mistake. This time, you will be the one to decide when you are ready." Jannia's mouth turned up at one corner. "It wasn't unforgivable." She gestured toward his case. "Put it in the passenger cabin for now. It's a few weeks travel to Mercala. We have plenty of time." She met his gaze then, and managed an almost genuine smile. "And no Akaril to walk in on us in the lounge... or on the bridge... or..." Emarr chuckled softly. "I will miss her, but her absence does have certain advantages." He reached for Jannia's hand. "Come here, Pale One." Jannia shook her head. "Don't call me that. Ever. My name is Jannia. And don't give me that crap about your people's traditions. We're not among your bloody people. I hate your name for me, and I always have. You call O'Hare your Angel, for God's sake! Couldn't you come up with a better name for the woman you claim to love than Pale One?" "But you are pale," Emarr said reasonably. Jannia growled in frustration. "Lots of women who live and work in space are pale. That doesn't mean we like to be reminded of it constantly." "I did not know it bothered you so much." "But you did know it bothered me." Emarr shrugged. "Perhaps I enjoy bothering you. I find the emotional response stimulating." Jannia's fingers curled into a fist. "I'll stimulate you, you arrogant-" Her voice cut off mid-sentence as she realized what she'd said. Emarr reached for her hand before it could drop back to her side. He curled his fingers around hers. "Yes, Jannia," he said, his gaze meeting and holding hers. "When the time is right, I am certain you will." He drew her hand up to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss onto knuckles clenched in involuntary defense. Then he bent further, and touched his brow where his kiss had fallen. He released her hand and picked up his case. "I will be in my cabin, settling in. If you will arrange for the refueling, and call me when it is time to record the payment?" "Hey, this is my ship. Who says you get to give the instructions?" She braced her hands on his chest and gave him a shove. "Meet me on the bridge when you've unpacked. I'm not your message service." Emarr smiled to himself as he continued down the corridor toward the cabins. He wondered if she even realized what she had done. She had put her hands on his body. Casually. Without thinking. As though doing so was the most natural thing in the universe. * * * Jannia signed off with the space station's fuel service and closed the comm channel. She leaned back in her seat, feeling its comforting firmness against her back. Somehow, she could never manage to completely relax with her back exposed to open air. And knowing she wasn't alone on the ship only increased that vulnerable feeling. She rested her head against the seat's back and stared up at the riblike pattern of the bulkhead supports. What had she let herself in for? This wasn't anything like the series of carefully planned encounters she'd hoped for. It was three weeks' travel from Crossroads to Mercala, for God's sake. Three weeks alone with Emarr Dengas aboard a ship with less than six hundred square feet of living space. Three weeks alone with some crazy alien empath who thought he loved her. That's why you chose him for this lame-brained experiment, stupid. Because he might actually care enough to keep trying if you turn out to be as frigid as a rogue comet. Of course, the empath thing doesn't hurt, either. She drummed her fingers against the arms of her seat. In every other way, he was all wrong. The man believed wholeheartedly in some primitive pagan religion that taught some nonsense about every being having a destiny. Thought his own adopted daughter was some kind of child of the gods. Hell, he didn't even speak normal Galactic. He sounded like a historical character in a TimeLost mystery. He was also the only male in charted space whose touch made her feel something besides fear. Jannia drew her leather duster more closely around her, her fingers creasing the thick hide as she clutched at her arms. Then she scowled down at her clutching fingers. She was doing it again. Why had she bothered buying new clothes if she still hid them under her old armor? She shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it over her shoulder. It crumpled in an abandoned heap behind her chair. Then she drew her arms in around herself, ran her hands up and down her arms and felt the soft fabric against her fingers. It felt cool, silken. Like Emarr's hair. One hand drifted to her own hair, which had already started to grow out from the style she'd adopted on Miakar. The ends curled a little, twining around her fingers. How would Emarr's fingers feel as they twined in her hair, pulling her mouth to his? She closed her eyes, and tried to call up the image. But it was not his face she saw bent to hers, not his fingers clutching and pulling, yanking her head back as- Jannia ground her teeth together and growled a curse. "Jannia." Emarr spoke softly from the corridor, announcing his presence. Jannia glanced over her shoulder and nodded. Only then did he come forward and take his seat beside her. "You have arranged for the fuel?" Emarr said. Again, Jannia nodded, not yet trusting her voice. Emarr pulled a data chip out of a small leather pouch fastened to the waist of his pants, and inserted it in the appropriate slot on the communications console, then entered the code for the fuel depot. Payment would be recorded instantly once the fuel had been delivered. "Something is troubling you," he observed. She mumbled something noncommittal. "Jannia, if we are to be together, it cannot be only a physical union. You must learn to open yourself to me in other ways. To let me into your heart, not only your body. I cannot help you to heal if you keep yourself closed to me." She turned to look at him. His gaze rested warmly on her, open and earnest. Here was a man who would do almost anything for someone he loved. And he loved her. "Do you think you could help me block a memory?" The words were out of Jannia's mouth almost before the thought had had a chance to form. Emarr frowned. "You wish to forget what Gandes did to you? It is not that simple. A suppressed memory is still there, somewhere in the mind. It still lurks beneath the surface, coloring other perceptions. Burying your memories deeper is not the goal. Learning to live with them is." "I've already lived with them for eight years," Jannia said. "I'm still as messed up as I was on day one." Emarr shook his head. "You have existed. You have not lived. You have shut down your soul, your emotions. Burying your memories, as well, will only distance you further from yourself and those around you. You must learn to accept what happened to you, and let it go." "Accept it." Jannia stared at him. Was he insane? How did anyone accept a rape so violent it had cost her an eye? "Yes, accept it," Emarr said firmly. "It is your past. The memory of it will always be part of you. Only when you have accepted it can you leave it behind you, where it belongs." Jannia looked away. Stared down at her hands. Looked back, her gaze locking on his. "I didn't ask you to be my therapist, Emarr. I asked you to be my lover." "None of my other lovers have asked me to suppress memories for them." Jannia looked away again. Unfortunately, in avoiding his eyes, her gaze settled instead on his broad bare chest. "As I have said before, simple physical union will not heal the scars to your soul. Deep inside you, you know this, or you would have chosen some other man. I know you do not return the love I feel for you." Jannia could almost have laughed. "Return it? I don't even comprehend it. I have to be the least lovable woman in the galaxy." Emarr's only response was an enigmatic smile. A panel on the console blinked to life, and Jannia leaned over to look at it. "Fuel delivery's here." "Are the preflight checks completed?" Emarr asked. Jannia nodded. "Then we can launch as soon as the fuel delivery is completed." He reached across the space between them for her hand. "Then-alone at last, as they say." Jannia looked at him, her expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "Don't remind me." CHAPTER 10 ========== Jannia finished plotting a course for Mercala and activated the hyperdrive. The stars blurred, shifted and finally vanished in the viewscreen before her, as theIce Daggerphased out of normal space into the swirling, iridescent chaos. She leaned back in her seat and looked over at Emarr. "Now what?" Emarr did not answer immediately. His gaze was fixed on the viewscreen, watching the formless swirls of energy moving in their eternal dance. For a moment, Jannia thought he hadn't heard her. But just as she opened her mouth to ask again, he slowly turned toward her. "How are we supposed to do this?" she asked him. "Normal people have dates. Do things together. Make small talk. I'm not good at small talk, by the way. I prefer to avoid it whenever possible." "I think we are beyond small talk, Jannia," Emarr said. He reached for her hand. "You know my feelings for you, and I know what you want from me. There is no need to play the kinds of games strangers play. We need to get to know one another on a deeper level." "That's where you've got me at a disadvantage," Jannia said. "Sometimes I get the feeling you know me on a deeper level than I know myself." Emarr dropped his gaze, shaking his head. "I know a little. Feelings. Impressions. I do not know the thoughts behind those feelings, or the memories that shaped them. I do not know your history before you stowed away on Vaialora's ship. I do not know your hopes, your dreams..." Jannia shook her head and let out what might have been a laugh. Or a cough. "Hopes? Dreams? I don't think I have any." Emarr's warm brown eyes looked into hers. "Everyone has dreams, Jannia." She looked away. "Do they?" "I dream of finding my homeworld. Of seeing my family again. Akaril dreams of becoming a nurse, like the ones who cared for her on Doravi. Merilee dreams of becoming the richest smuggler in the galaxy and retiring to a vast estate on some wild, unspoiled planet in the Fringes. Is there nothing you dream of?" "Not wanting to scream every time someone bumps into me." Emarr sighed. "Nothing beyond that?" "What else is there? The future? Most smugglers don't live to retire. You know that. I've always known I'll die young. Young, and probably alone. And I'm okay with that. It's not like I have such a great life, anyway." "How can you think like that?" Emarr demanded, anger raising and tightening his voice. "You are a young woman, not even out of your twenties. The whole future is open to you-adventures waiting to be had. A destiny waiting to be discovered-" "Don't get started again on this destiny nonsense." Jannia jerked her hand out of Emarr's grip. "I thought you intended to take back what Gandes stole from you." "I do." "All of it." Emarr swiveled his chair around to face hers. "I know of this thing, this sense of futility, of having no future, no reason for living. It is common in those who have suffered great trauma, as you have. It can be treated-" "I told the doctors when it happened. No drugs. No antidepressants, no synthetic neurotransmitters, no synaptic reconfiguration. No one is tampering with my head." "You asked me to help you suppress your memories," Emarr reminded her. "That was a mistake. You were right to refuse. I won't ask you to do anything like that again." "Why are you so against using medication?" Emarr asked. "It could have helped. It has helped others who have suffered similar traumas." Jannia said nothing. "Jannia, you need to talk to me. I cannot help you if you will not talk to me." "I told you before. I want a lover, not a therapist." "And lovers do not talk to one another?" Jannia growled softly. "I like my neurochemistry the way it is, okay? I don't want a bunch of synthetic chemicals messing with the way my head works. I lived half my life with someone who thought drugs were the answer to all her problems. I'd rather manage on my own." "Who was this person?" "My mother. She witnessed a murder-her sister-when I was just a kid. It really messed her up. The doctors tried a couple of things on her, including something new. Something reallygood. It did a great job, took all the bad feelings away, and made her feel just goddamn wonderful. Not a bloody care in the world." "The effect was more powerful than the doctors had anticipated." "Damn right. You've heard of Canvaril? It started out as a trauma drug, but these days it's one of the more popular street narcotics." Emarr nodded. "I feel it my duty to point out that there are other trauma medications available. Effective, time-tested, non-addictive ones." "Not for me." Jannia rubbed at her arms, trying to dispel the coldness washing over her at the memories. "It was about that time that my father left. Not that he'd exactly been there before that." "Your father left?" "Stop parroting everything I say. I told you, you're not my therapist." "Right. I am only the person helping you heal yourself. A very different concept. I see that now." "Very funny. Where was I?" "Your father left." "Right. So by the time I was ten years old, I was basically on my own. Worse than on my own, because I had my mom to take care of. Not that I did a great job, since she managed to kill herself anyway." "How old were you?" "Fifteen. I stayed with a neighbor for a while, until the authorities decided he wasn't a fit role model, or something. They put me in some kind of place for kids waiting for a foster home, like they couldn't have just left me with Paul for the time being." "Was than when you stowed away on Vaialora's ship?" Emarr prompted when Jannia stopped. "I used to hang out at the spaceport a lot," Jannia said. "Watching people. It was such a busy place. So many people coming and going. Vaia-she was the most fascinating of all. Beautiful and tough at the same time. The kind of person I wished I was. I guess that's why I picked her ship." Her throat felt tight at the memory. "When she found me, I thought she was going to throw me out the airlock." "I cannot imagine Vaialora doing such a thing." "Well, I didn't know her, did I? I was so relieved when all she did was make me work for my passage. I watched her bloody nav board for her every night. I did her supply inventories for her. I cleaned out the filters in the water recycling system." Jannia made a disgusted face. "That's your job while you're on this ship, by the way." "We will discuss the division of labor later," Emarr said. "Vaia taught me everything I know about flying a ship," Jannia continued. "When I expected her to put me off the ship at the next available port, she deeded half her ship to me instead. Said technically she should put me on salary and let me buy my partnership in a couple of years, but she liked me, so she'd give me a break." Jannia frowned. "She was careful to explain to me exactly what happened to her last partner." "To Gandes, you mean." Jannia nodded. "Not that the warning did me much good. I had it in my head he was only a danger to her. That hecouldn't with anyone else, anymore." "Ayav Liori cannot," Emarr said, "not even with-ah-himself." Jannia grimaced. "You're oversharing, Emarr. And on someone else's behalf, at that." "It is a matter of public record-part of a paper Kerra published on the subject. At least, I presume Ayav was the subject of the case study in question." "I don't follow Kerra's research. Too close to home I guess." The look she sent him was pointed and aimed to impale. His response was a most satisfying wince. After an awkward pause, Emarr made a strategic retreat to safer ground. "What were your dreams back then? When you first became Vaialora's partner." "Adventure. Romance. The things every fifteen-year-old dreams of." She waved a cynical hand, dismissing those youthful dreams as irrelevant and foolish. "Adventure you have," Emarr said. "Romance-well, we are working on that one, are we not?" "Romance is just a pretty word for foreplay." Emarr ran his tongue along the edge of his lips. "Such a cynic you are. I can see this is going to be a challenge." He reached for her hand. "I think it is time we engaged in a little-foreplay." Jannia's heart jumped inside her, and her throat went dry. But she took his hand. His thumb stroked the back of her hand in lazy circles as he pulled her close to him. He leaned toward her, sliding out of his chair to kneel on the floor between their chairs. He reached out with his free hand, to brush his strong fingers across her cheek. "I am going to kiss you now," he said softly. Jannia swallowed and nodded. She leaned toward him, letting her eyes fall closed as she braced herself for the touch of his lips on hers. "No." Emarr's fingers squeezed hers. "Keep your eyes open. Look at me. You must see, and know, who touches you." Jannia's eyes closed tighter, for a moment. Then she took a deep, steadying breath, and opened them. "It is a kiss, Jannia, not a blaster shot," Emarr chided. Jannia licked her lips nervously. "No one has ever kissed me," she said. "Not even before. Not even-him." She wouldn't say Gandes's name. Wouldn't risk invoking the power his memory still had over her. "Then I am honored to be the first." Emarr pulled Jannia to the edge of her seat, and took her head in his hands. His fingers stroked the back of her neck, behind and below her ears. His well-formed, masculine features filled her field of vision, his dark eyes deep and warm and full of emotions he was careful not to inflict on her directly. Love. Desire. Alien, frightening emotions. Emarr gazed into Jannia's eyes and felt the ambivalence within her, the desire and the fear. He could calm those fears. At this moment, she was vulnerable. He could slip into her mind, soothe away her fears and stoke the weakly flickering flame of her desire with the raging fire of his own. Gods, it was tempting. He could make it so much easier for her. He had the power to take all her doubts and fears away. Because a part of her wanted just that. But no. He had no right to take control of her that way. Jannia must learn to let go of her fears of her own accord. If he stripped away her reluctance and replaced it with what he wanted her to feel, he would be little better than Gandes. "Are you going to kiss me or not?" Jannia said. Emarr smiled. Impatience. That was good. He angled his head and brushed his lips gently against hers. Her mouth felt stiff against his, her lips pressed tight together. His own lips parted, and he applied more pressure, sliding his mouth over hers in an insistent caress. His tongue probed and coaxed, seeking entrance. He could feel her hands on his shoulders now, resting there, neither drawing him closer nor pushing him away. Just touching him. It felt good. So good. But it would feel so much better if she would only open her mouth. He raised his head and looked at her. "Is it too soon for this?" "No." She glanced down at her hands where they rested on his shoulders, her skin milk- white against the rich green of his. "Maybe. That kind of kissing-it's a little-" "Invasive?" Emarr guessed. The kind of bodily invasion she had suffered might make her more sensitive to such nuances. Jannia nodded. "I do want to kiss you. But maybe we could warm up to it a little? Just-touch-for a while?" "All right." Emarr drew Jannia up with him as he got to his feet. "Come to the lounge with me." "Why?" Jannia asked. "These seats are not made for two. You would have to sit on my lap, and I do not think that would be such a good idea right now." "Why?" Jannia asked again. Then she reddened as the reason occurred to her. "Never mind." * * * "Tell me about Ziala," Jannia said, breaking a silence that had gone on, in her opinion, too long. She was leaning against Emarr's shoulder on the wide, padded bench that ran along the perimeter of the lounge. He had his arm around her, and his free hand held one of hers. They must have been sitting like that, in silence, for over half an hour. Emarr shook his head. "I do not want to talk about her. I do not want to think about her. Not when I am with you." "But we have to talk about her sometime," Jannia objected. "I need to know who I'm going to be dealing with. I met her once. You were with her a long time. You may have information I'll need." "Not now," Emarr said. "I will tell you whatever you need to know when we draw close to Mercala. For now, can we not concentrate on you and me?" "But the time you spent with Ziala is part of who you are," Jannia insisted. "I thought we were supposed to be getting to know each other on a deeper level. Or does that only apply to me?" "Of course not. You may ask me about anything-except Ziala." "Stubborn bastard," Jannia muttered. "At your service." Jannia poked him in the ribs. "All right, then. Tell me about caffeine. How exactly does it render you harmless?" "An odd choice of questions, given our conversation on the bridge." "I'm uncomfortable with drugs for myself. I'm still interested in how they work. If my mother had asked a few questions I'd have had a much easier childhood." She angled her head to look up at him. "And this is the sort of thing partners need to know. Weaknesses. Vulnerabilities." "Are we partners?" Jannia shrugged. "For the moment." Emarr's palm cupped her shoulder, stroked its slow, gentle way down her arm. "I do not know what exactly happens, chemically, when I am exposed to caffeine. I only know its physical and mental effects." "And they are..." "Muscular paralysis of the extremities. Dermal insensitivity. Loss of psionic faculties. And..." He hesitated and glanced away. Empaths, Jannia noted, didn't turn an attractive color when they blushed. "And what? Body odor?" Emarr grimaced and shook his head. "The word eludes me. My body does not function as it should." "Does not function as it shouldhow?" "Sexually." Jannia wished she hadn't asked. "Impotence. The word you were looking for is impotence." "Temporaryimpotence," he clarified defensively. "The few times I have been exposed I have made a complete recovery within weeks. Somewhat longer than the paralysis lasts, but not so long as the loss of empathic ability. The effect did not please Ziala, I will tell you that much." "She knows about this?" "I was with her the first time it happened. And now, we begin to move into territory I do not wish to discuss." "Tell me about your homeworld, then. Your family. You can't have any strenuous objections to that, can you?" "No." His fingers slipped inside the collar of her tunic, tracing little swirling patterns on the sensitive skin of her shoulder. It should have repelled her, but it didn't. A strange tingling warmth began low in her belly, as vague and fragile as candle smoke. "No, you don't object," she said, "or no, you won't tell me?" "No, I do not object." Emarr shifted sideways, taking her with him, so that her back rested against his chest. She stretched out her legs along the length of the bench as he wrapped both his arms around her. She shouldn't like being held like this. His arms were so strong, his body so big and powerful compared to hers. He was much bigger, much stronger, than Gandes had been. There would be very little she could do, in this position, if he decided he'd been patient long enough. But his chest was strong and solid against her back, and there was nothing demanding in his embrace. He hadn't even tried to kiss her again. It was strange to feel vulnerable and protected at the same time. "I was the third of seven children born to a hunter of the Lidaru-the mountain clans," Emarr said. "My father was a great hunter, who could read the hearts of the beasts he hunted. He knew which females had young to care for, and should not be taken, and he knew which males lacked the spirit to win the mating battles. He took only the weak males, and the barren females, and so the herds remained strong. And he knew which animals were diseased, and should not be eaten, and so the people remained strong." "Your father was a hunter? But I know you don't eat meat. I thought it was a cultural thing." "It is. On my world, there are no domesticated animals. We hunt for our meat, allowing the animals to live their natural lives as the gods intended until we need them. Only our plant foods are farmed." "So you're morally opposed to raising animals for meat?" "It is slavery. Living beings have a right to live their natural lives." "But it's okay to interrupt those natural lives by killing the animals in question." Emarr shrugged. "Does it matter to the animal if it is taken by a predator with two legs rather than four?" "Okay, so your father was a hunter. What about your mother?" "She was a healer. Not aKinya-d'sar , but an herbalist, and a midwife. When I was nine years old, she gave birth to my sister Cynestria, aKinya-d'sar , and had to move up to the cloisters to raise her until she was weaned." "How long was your mother gone?" "Almost three years." "She nursed your sister for three years?" "She nursed me for four. It is not unusual on my world. She would have stayed longer, but..." His voice trailed off. "But what?" Jannia prodded. "My cousin Lielle was killed by ananaschra. A tentacled beast that lives in the rivers of my homeworld. Lielle and I had gone to the riverbank to try to catch a glimpse of the creature. We got-a better look at it than we had intended." "And you're more comfortable talking aboutthis than talking about Ziala?" Jannia shook her head. She did not understand him. She wondered if she ever would. "Theanaschradestroys lives only when it is hungry," Emarr answered. Jannia shuddered. Emarr wrapped his arms around her more tightly, stroking her forearms. "I did not just see Lielle die. I felt her pain as the beast ripped her apart. I was wounded in my soul, and my father sent to the cloisters for aKinya-d'sar to heal me. My mother came also, leaving Cynestria behind. She lay by my bedside for weeks, soothing away the nightmares, while the healer worked with me by day. In time, the horror of what I had witnessed eased. But I have never gotten over my fear of open water." "Then what's this I hear about your jumping out a third-story window into the ocean, when you went with Kerra to rescue Aden from that Kethrian woman's harem last year?" "I would face greater fears than that to save a man from the kind of slavery Locke was facing," Emarr answered. "I have been a woman's bed slave. I know what it is to be used, to have one's body be a toy for another's pleasure. I have heard men joke, saying they would welcome such a fate, but they know nothing of what they say." He held Jannia close, his strong arms tightening around her, as if needing to reassure himself it was really Jannia he held. His grip was strong, too strong. Terror stabbed her heart with a knife so cold it burned, and she shoved at his arms, desperate to get free. He let her go. She scrambled off the bench, putting distance between them as quickly as she could. "I am sorry, Jannia." Emarr watched her face, eyes dark with concern and regret. Jannia clasped her arms protectively around her middle. She shivered with a chill that went beyond the physical. The warmth, the fragile closeness that had been growing between them-it had snapped off like shorted-out lighting panel. "No, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm trying. I really am trying." "I know you are." Emarr got to his feet. "This is why I did not want to talk about Ziala. I become too bound up in what she did to me-" Jannia frowned. Emarr's odd word choice disturbed her, somehow. "I think you mean wrapped up." "Yes. I become too wrapped up in what she did to me, and I forget what Gandes did to you. That is unforgivable." "What did Ziala do to you?" Jannia asked. "Was making me her slave not enough?" "I suppose." Jannia bit her bottom lip. Hard. "I did not mean for my own issues to get in the way of what we are trying to do here. It was-" "Unforgivable. Got it. Do me a favor, Dengas. Let me be the one to decide what I can and can't forgive. You're only H-" Jannia cut herself off when she realized what she'd been about to say. "Only Human?" Emarr filled in. "But I am not Human." "I meant it in the non-capitalized sense." "A somewhat racist expression, still." "I suppose. The Galactic language is derived mainly from the primary Terran trade language, after all." Jannia walked over to the meal processor and entered the code for water. Her throat had gone as dry as an airless moon. "But the fact that you aren't Human-that you're an empath from a race of empaths-doesn't mean recycler sludge as far as I'm concerned. It sure as hell doesn't mean you have to be perfect. I'm sure as hell not. Ask anybody." She took a long swallow from her water glass. "To me you are," Emarr said softly. Jannia rolled her eyes. "I'm a mixed-up frigid bitch with no sense of humor." She took another drink of water and set the glass down on the table. "I'm going to bed. I don't feel like wasting any more time tonight. It's obvious this isn't working." "How can you say that," Emarr asked, "when we have barely begun to try?" "I can say that because that's how I feel right now," Jannia countered. "You can try to prove me wrong tomorrow." She turned and left the lounge. * * * Jannia jerked awake, a scream caught in her throat, choking her. Her heart pounded inside her so hard each beat felt like a hammer blow against her ribs. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs ached, burned. Gasping like a beached fish, she managed to suck air into her lungs just as the door to her cabin hissed open. Jannia struggled upright, fighting to calm her labored breathing, her throbbing heart. A big, hulking form came toward her, silhouetted in the faint light of the doorway. Jannia jerked back against the headboard, fingers groping under her pillow for the blaster she kept there. "Jannia." The voice was low and familiar, its exotic lilt softening the consonants in her name. Her fingers closed briefly on the cool synthetic of the blaster's grip, then slackened as her brain registered what her ears had heard. "Are you all right?" Emarr asked. "I felt your fear." Jannia closed her eyes and swallowed hard, trying to dispel the hard, jagged lump that still choked her. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move." The words came out as a weak, hoarse gasp. "It was a dream." Emarr's voice was low, soothing. Jannia felt his weight settle onto the bed beside her. She braced herself for the misguided attempt at physical comfort she was sure was coming. But he didn't touch her. "It was only a dream, my love." "No it wasn't." Jannia fought to control her trembling, giving silent thanks that Emarr hadn't turned on the light. She didn't want him to see her like this. Weak. Terrified. Where was the spirit he claimed to admire in her now? "A memory, then." He leaned closer to her. She could see the shadowy silhouette of his hand moving toward her face, stopping just inches from her skin. He let his hand fall back to his side without touching her. It must be frustrating for him, she realized. To want so badly to comfort her, and know his touch would not be welcome. Not now. Not with the dream so fresh in her memory. Gandes's hand had covered her mouth, her nose, stifling both her screams and her breath. His body had covered hers, pinning her to the hard, cold floor. She had fought him, had struggled against him with all her strength- She squeezed her eyes so tightly shut she saw stars. "He is gone, Jannia," Emarr whispered. "Dead by your own hand. He will never hurt you, or anyone else, again." "I know that," she said. "It doesn't help." The words echoed strangely in her mind. Familiar, somehow. Disturbing. She scooted further back on the bed, away from him. "You shouldn't have interfered that day on Advarra. You should have let me fall." "Do not talk like that." Emarr started to reach for her again, then stopped. With a low growl of frustration, he shot to his feet. "Would you have had him win, then, even in death? Gone to your death beside him like a grieving Alderian wife? He had not done a good enough job of destroying you, so you had to destroy yourself on his behalf?" She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, and said nothing. Emarr moved around to the end of the bed, staring, Jannia supposed, at the switched-off viewport. He was silent for a long time. "Do you hate me, then?" he asked finally. "For saving your life?" Jannia didn't answer. She wanted to say no. The word was perched on the edge of her tongue, ready to tumble off, but a part of her wasn't entirely sure he wasn't right. And she wouldn't risk lying to him. He deserved better. He started to move toward the door. "Wait," she said. He paused. Waited, while she tried like hell to figure out why she'd stopped him. What she meant to say. "Stay," she said finally. "Please. I don't want to be alone." She held out a hand, reaching out for him. He came close, and took the hand she offered. He bent and brushed his first his brow, then his lips against her cold, thin fingers. She moved further back on the bed, closer to the wall, to make room for him. "No," he said. "Not yet." He released her fingers. "I will take the floor." CHAPTER 11 ========== There was something wrong with the cabin's ventilation system. That was the first thought that slipped into Jannia's consciousness as her eyes flickered open. What other explanation could there be for the soft rhythmic hiss coming from somewhere below her, like the slow, deep breathing of a sleeping man? Then she remembered. She fumbled for the control panel set into the nightstand, turning the overhead light to its lowest setting. Then she rolled over onto her side and peeked over the edge of the bed. Emarr lay on his side, facing the bed, his eyes still closed in sleep. He was naked except for a pair of loose black shorts, the waistband of which was twisted around in a way that couldn't be comfortable. He must have twisted around a lot during the night. Not that that would surprise Jannia much. The floor was metal, with a thin layer of threadbare carpet. It couldn't have been the most comfortable place to sleep. It must have taken him forever to find a position in which sleep was even possible. She herself had slept surprisingly well. Usually there was little point in even trying to go back to sleep after one of her flashbacks. But last night- It had to have been Emarr's presence. Somehow, his being there made her feel safe. Emarr muttered something in his sleep, in what must have been his native language, and rolled over onto his back. Jannia should get up and check on the nav board. Deviations in their temporal course might have occurred while they slept, deviations that could prove dangerous if left unchecked. But she just lay there, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his muscled chest and remembering how that chest had felt against her back, last night in the lounge. Before she'd panicked when he held her too tight. She drew a deep breath. She was going to go crazy with frustration before this was over, and probably take him with her. What was wrong with her that she could want his touch one minute, and be terrified of it the next? He had been right, of course. It was still too early to conclude she would never be able to be intimate with him. She had to be patient. She had to keep trying. She couldn't let Gandes win. She wrestled that last thought down to the ground and stomped on it. She had to stop thinking about him. It only got in the way. Instead she studied Emarr's sleeping form, his muscled chest, his well-formed, powerful limbs. He had one of the most beautiful bodies she had ever seen. Some day she would love to sculpt him, though she doubted her inadequate hands could ever hope to coax the clay into such a perfect form. She glanced down at her hands. She'd stopped practicing her hobby after replacing the urn she'd broken, eight years ago. Told herself it was impractical to keep bulky, messy clays and glazes in the limited space available on a working ship. But the truth was that since Gandes's assault, working in clay no longer gave her any pleasure. Nothing did. Not until- No. The thought died inside her, half-formed. Her determination to reclaim her life, her soul, to put what Gandes had done to her in the past where it belonged, had started before his death, before Emarr had saved her life. That moment had been a turning point, of course, but- When had it been? At what moment had she started to feel again, to feel something besides the coldness and the fear? Emarr mumbled in his sleep again, in that same lilting, musical language. Jannia's gaze settled on his parted lips. He'd slept all night on that cold hard floor for her sake. He could have gone back to his own cabin once she had gone back to sleep, but he'd stayed. She slipped out of the bed and knelt on the floor beside him. She'd told him before to remember that this was about her. But it wasn't. Not entirely. Maybe she didn't buy into this destiny nonsense, but his feelings for her were real. What he wanted had to count, too. And what he'd wanted from her yesterday, on the bridge, was a kiss. A real kiss. She bent over him, bracing one hand on his shoulder for balance, and brushed her lips over his. Softly. Gently. It was easier this time. His mouth was warm. Moist. Welcoming. She leaned into the kiss, her lips stroking over his in exploration. It felt different than she'd expected. Better. Sweet, liquid warmth spread in her belly, tingled in her breasts. It began so subtly, she barely noticed at first that he was returning her kiss. His lips parted for her, welcoming her timidly questing tongue. He suckled gently, encouraging her exploration. His tongue brushed against hers, softly, questioningly. She raised her head and looked at him. His warm dark gaze rested on her face. "Good morning," she said, her voice a little unsteady. Emarr smiled languidly. "What a wonderful way to wake up." He reached up to gently stroke her shoulders. His hands felt good. "How did you sleep?" "Wouldn't you know?" she asked. "I would know if you had another nightmare. But not necessarily if you rested well." "I slept like a baby," she admitted. "Better than I have in a long time." Emarr stroked her cheek with strong, gentle fingers. "I am glad." He twined his fingers in her hair, coaxing her face closer. "I want to kiss you again." "I'm the one who kissed you." Jannia rested her hands against Emarr's shoulders, her forearms lying against his chest. "And a very good job you did of it." Emarr smiled, brushing the hair back from Jannia's face. "But now it is my turn." He twined his fingers in her hair, and his fingers stroked behind her ears. Raising his head, he brushed his lips against hers. Gently. Coaxingly. She resisted, but only for a moment, before the memory of their first kiss gave her the courage to surrender. His warm wet tongue teased at the edges of her lips. She opened to him, welcoming him. His tongue stroked against hers, adding fuel to the growing warmth inside her. He held her, his hands stroking gently up and down her back, at once soothing and arousing. Nothing else had ever felt as good as his hands on her body, as his warm, eager mouth claiming hers. He broke the kiss too soon, easing her away from him with gentle but insistent hands. He sat up, more than a little stiffly, and she didn't miss the way he turned his body away from her, shielding from her eyes the evidence of what her kiss had done to him. It didn't scare her as much as it should have. But the ragged breath she sucked in as she got to her feet had as much to do with relief as arousal. "I need to check the nav board," she said. Emarr nodded. "I will prepare our breakfast after I have dressed." She turned to go. "Jannia?" She turned back at the sound of his voice. "I love you." Jannia closed her eyes. She should say something to him. But what? "I do not require an answer," he assured her softly. "Yes, you do. And I wish I had one." She turned and left the cabin. * * * Growing up on his homeworld, Emarr had washed himself from a basin with a scrap of fabric left over from making the short, sleeveless smocks his sisters wore. As an adult, living in space, he had grown accustomed to cleansing with the sonic resonators that were a standard feature in starship sanitories. Water showers were a luxury he seldom thought about. Right now, though, he blessed whichever of theIce Dagger 's previous owners had thought to install one. He needed a shower. Now. The colder, the better. Nothing else, ever, had felt as good as waking to Jannia's kiss, feeling the warmth of her awakening desire wash over him. The temptation to join with her, to share his desire as she unknowingly shared hers with him, had been all but overwhelming. He drew a steadying breath as he stripped off his shorts and turned on the water. The bitingly cold, penetrating spray did nothing to dampen his arousal. That he wanted her did not surprise him. He had wanted her for a long time. That he wanted to dothat with her... He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the sanitory wall. He had been with a number of women since Merilee and Ryan had won him from Ziala in a rigged card game, but he had been careful. He had kept his mental shields, such as they were, in place. He had not wanted his innermost soul laid bare that way again. Not after the way his mistress had used it against him. He had promised Jannia he would prepare their breakfast, he remembered. She would be finished checking the computer's navigational logs soon. He shut off the water and reached for the pants that were draped over the hand sanitizer. What would she want, he wondered as he made his way into the lounge. He could not remember ever seeing her eat. She must not eat much, because she was so thin it hurt him to look at her. What sort of food would tempt her? Emarr scowled as he looked over the meal processor's inventory. Like himself, she also maintained an almost-vegetarian diet, though probably for different reasons. Unlike him, however, she did not allow herself the luxury of storing fresh food. And vegetarian space rations tended to be singularly unappealing. Why had he never thought to take an inventory of their food stores before they left Crossroads? If this were all they had available to them, he would soon be as thin as she was. The moment they reached Mercala, he was going stock some real food. If it were possible to find any real food on Mercala, he thought with a shudder. The Mercalan race was known throughout the galaxy as having some of the most bizarre and disturbing dietary preferences. Maybe they should stop at Norhei instead. It was en route to Mercala- "I don't know why you're taking so long to decide," Jannia said from the doorway. "It all tastes the same." "I know," Emarr said. "That is the problem." He programmed the processor to warm up two servings of what pretended to be hot cereal with honey and nuts. What the space ration manufacturers called honey would cause any self-respecting bee to flee in terror. He handed Jannia her bowl and they sat down. "Any surprises?" Jannia shook her head. "Cleanest board check I've done since Aden sold me this ship. Having an empath aboard must be good luck." Her lip twitched in her version of a grin. One of these days, he vowed, he was going to get a genuine smile out of her. "If that were true, then my ship should keep the truest course in known space. I have Akaril." Speaking his daughter's name brought a pang of sadness. He missed her. He hoped Merilee was taking good care of her. "You really love that kid, don't you?" Jannia said. "Yes," Emarr said simply. "She's lucky. I wish my father had been like you." "I am far from being a perfect father, Jannia. I do my best, because she has no one else, but the life I am providing for her is far from ideal. There is so much that she needs that I cannot provide." "You're trying," Jannia said. "That's way more than my father ever did. And then, when I needed him most, he just left." She stared down at the dish of food in front of her. She had not touched it. He picked up her spoon and handed it to her. She looked at it strangely for a moment before reaching out to take it. "Your father was a fool," Emarr said. "The gods granted him a precious gift, and he discarded it as though it had no value. He did not deserve to have a daughter." "If you're expecting me to leap to his defense, I'll have to disappoint you." Jannia dug her spoon into the gloppy mess in her bowl and started to raise it to her lips. As its aroma reached her nostrils, she changed her mind and set it back down. Emarr frowned. "You need to eat, Jannia." "You're not my father," Jannia said a little too sharply. "Of course not. We just established that your father did not care about you. I do. You are too thin-" "Thanks a lot. I suppose you like your women all round and soft, like O'Hare." Jannia shoved her bowl away and started to get to her feet. "You are so beautiful you take my breath away," Emarr said with quiet conviction. "But youare too thin. It is your health that concerns me, not your appearance." Jannia bit her lip. She stared down at the bowl in front of her. "Please," Emarr said. "For me. Eat." Jannia sighed, but sat back down and scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "I do not see why you do not stock your ship with food you like," Emarr said. Jannia swallowed and shrugged. "Most of the time I have no appetite. About the only time I actually feel hungry is when I've spent a lot of time outdoors, like at the spa. Fresh food would just spoil before I ate it." "You could always store food in the cargo hold's stasis unit," Emarr said. "Or install a stasis-capable meal processor." Jannia shook her head. "I can't afford a high-end MP, and the cargo hold is for cargo. We can stop on the first convenient planet and pick up some food supplies, if what I have aboard isn't good enough for you-" "This is about you," Emarr broke in. "Not me. You are not taking proper care of yourself." "I take care of myself," Jannia retorted. "I'm still alive, aren't I?" Emarr closed his eyes and sighed. She had been right, of course. He was not her father. Nor was he her husband, or even, yet, her lover. He had no real right to make judgments about how she did, or did not, take care of herself. No matter how badly he might want that right. "Anyway," Jannia pointed out, "You're not eating it, either." Emarr dug his spoon in his bowl and took a large mouthful. He tried not to grimace at the taste. Jannia's lip twitched. "We'll pick something up on the next available planet," she assured him. "I may not care what or how often I eat, but I don't suppose it's fair to starve you." Emarr swallowed. The gluey cereal felt distinctly unpleasant going down. "I appreciate that." * * * After breakfast Emarr quietly insisted that it was his turn to monitor the nav board. Jannia's first reaction was to refuse. Giving him the command codes to her ship was a big step. Of all the things to get skittish about. She'd let him touch herbody, for God's sake. For the first ten minutes she stood at his shoulder watching him. Hovering, as though expecting him to make a mistake, to miss something, though he did this all the time on his own ship. The look he shot her was knowing, amused. She turned on her heel and stalked from the bridge. She spent the next several hours in her cabin, reading. It was nice to be able to give her full attention to the book for a change, instead of having to keep checking the boards for course glitches. Which reminded her that they really ought to set up some sort of shift rotation. She shook her head and set down her datapad after bookmarking her place in the novel. That would be the practical thing to do, but it wouldn't exactly be conducive to their relationship. Whatever that was. She glanced at her chronometer and frowned to realize how late it was getting. It was well past whatever Emarr must consider a sensible time for supper, but he hadn't disturbed her or asked her to join him in a meal. Which considering the way he'd been nagging her at breakfast, was pretty strange. She rolled to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over, sitting up. She hit the comm key on the bedside console. "Emarr?" There was no answer. The only sound issuing from the speaker was the same slow, rhythmic hiss she'd awakened to this morning. An unfamiliar sensation tickled at the back of her throat before it occurred to her to be annoyed. "Emarr!" she repeated, louder and more sharply. He mumbled and sputtered for a moment, then his breathing evened out again. She should have known, she thought, as she made her way down the corridor to the bridge. He couldn't have gotten a decent night's sleep on her cabin's hard cold floor, without even a blanket to warm him. She found him slumped in her chair, head back, his long hair flowing down the back of the seat like a smooth, deep green waterfall. From his position, she imagined he'd have one hell of a stiff neck when he woke up. She sat down in the copilot's seat and checked the navigational logs. The last course correction had been done almost two hours ago. The ship's course had drifted a little since then, but nothing she couldn't fix easily. No harm had been done. She looked over at the sleeping man beside her, content, for the moment, to watch him breathe. The rise and fall of his strong bare chest drew her gaze, its rhythm almost hypnotic, and it struck her again just how beautiful he was. She looked down at her hands. Hands that had touched him, felt the supple warmth of his skin against their fingers, their palms. Hands that ached to do so again. She imagined them, as she had that morning, molding his form in clay. How that would feel. How it would smell- Her fingers clenched into fists as she fought to control the shudders that threatened to wrack her body.Clay on her hands. Its scent, earthy and moist, filling the room. Rough hands on her body, shoving her backward against the worktable- She forced her mind back to the present, her gaze back to Emarr. His was the only touch she would let herself remember. The way his head was thrown back bared his throat to her, like a wild male animal offering up its life to the caress of a huntress's blade. She could see the cords of muscle, the hard prominence of his adam's apple, the vulnerable indentation just below. Even with the memory of the flashback still buzzing in her mind, she wanted him. How could that be? She leaned toward him, reaching out a single finger to trace the edge of his jaw, the curve of his chin, then move down in a straight line toward that sensitive little hollow. Leaned closer still, to follow her finger's path with small, gentle kisses. His body jerked, tensed, went suddenly rigid. A response she would have expected from herself, not from him. But she understood. No one would understand better.But why now, and not this morning? "Easy, Dengas," she murmured against his skin. "It's me. Your Pale One." "Jannia." She felt him moan her name, as much as heard it. A shivering, trembling sensation against her mouth. His body shifted under hers, muscles rippling as his hands moved up to cup the back of her head, to tease the sensitive flesh at her nape. Warmth flooded her belly, spread though her limbs. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, pressing his body against hers. A surge of desire filled Jannia, engulfed her, a desire more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. Her body seethed with it. Burned with it. His. Emarr tore his mouth from hers with a harsh, angry curse and shoved her away from him. And the burning, throbbing desire she'd felt switched off like a snuffed candle. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she backed away from him. "Gods," Emarr said, dragging his hands through his hair. "Gods, Jannia, I am sorry. I had not meant-" "It was you." Jannia stared at him, at his big male body, his powerful hands. She'd never felt a need so powerful, so strong, so desperate. But it hadn't been hers. It had been his, and he'd made her feel it. If he hadn't regained control when he had- "I am sorry," Emarr repeated. "It was-" "Unforgivable. Right. I swear if you use that word again, I'm going to rip your tongue out by the roots!" Jannia struggled to get her ragged breathing under control. "Why did you stop?" "You told me to stay out of your head unless you invited me," Emarr reminded her. "I fully intend to respect your wishes. But just now, when you woke me as you did, kissed my throat the way you did-" He looked away. "I thought it a dream. A memory. Ziala used to wake me like that, disturbing my sleep whenever she wanted me, demanding I service her. She would begin as you did, warm and gentle, but then-" He shook his head to dispel the memory. "I had not had such a dream in years, but once they were common. When you spoke, when you called yourself by my old name for you, the name you hate so, I thought I was still dreaming. That the dream had changed, shifted, as dreams sometimes do, putting you in my arms in Ziala's place. I went with the current." "With the flow," Jannia corrected automatically. She heaved a ragged breath. "So you dream about coercing me." Emarr paled. He swallowed convulsively, forcing down the sour bile her words raised in his throat. "No. No, Jannia. I dream of you willing, opening your spirit to me out of trust, out of love. Accepting my desire freely, giving me yours in return. I would never want-" he broke off with a ragged, wounded sound, as though his mind rejected the very thought of what she accused him of. Jannia believed him. She could see it on his face, the anguish in his eyes. He hadn't meant to force his arousal on her, and had stopped the moment he realized what he was doing. But that didn't change the fact that he'd done it. "I am sorry, Jannia," he said. "This will not happen again. Never. Not unless you ask it of me. But I would advise you not to awaken me with any more such kisses." Jannia nodded slowly. "I've learned my lesson, trust me." "I only hope that you can still trust me," Emarr said. Her only reply was to press her lips tightly together. "I would never willingly hurt you, my love," he vowed. "I would never do anything you did not want me to do. Please believe me." "I want to," Jannia said. "I want to trust you more than anything. But after what just happened, I don't know if I can." CHAPTER 12 ========== "Okay," Jannia said as they left the spaceport on Norhei. "This is a straight in-and-out operation. We get what we came for, and then we high-tail it back to the ship." Emarr laughed. "You make it sound like we are picking up an arms shipment." "It's your people who are going to suffer if Ziala decides I'm too unreliable to be trusted. We've barely given ourselves enough time to reach Mercala on schedule as it is, and that's barring the unforeseen." Jannia quickened her pace, as though covering the space between the tiny outdated spaceport and the village marketplace were a matter of planet-shattering importance. Emarr matched her pace easily, of course. It was not her speed, but her attitude that made him seethe with frustration. Yes, making the rendezvous on time was important to their plans, but she had been given a window of nearly two weeks for the rendezvous and they were well within that timeframe. And if anyone should be impatient to deal with his former mistress, it was he, not Jannia. It angered him that she could suggest that his desire to deal with Ziala might be less than hers. What was Ziala to her? A woman who had dared to try to involve her in a business dealing that her conscience could not accept. She had been far more than that to him. She had made of him a pet, a toy, a thing to be locked away until she wanted to use him. He wanted more than just to stop her. He burned with the need to make her pay for what she had done to him, and to the child he had made his own. But his hate for Ziala paled in comparison to what he felt for Jannia. He wanted so badly to be with her. To love her, to heal her. This time they had alone together might be the last for a long time. As much as he yearned to face Ziala again, to make her pay for her crimes, he wanted time, too. Time to find some way past the walls Jannia kept putting up between them before everything else got in the way again. The "village" turned out to be bigger than it had looked from a distance, big enough to qualify as a small city, perhaps. Small, low houses left in the natural tones of stone and wood seemed to blend in with the close-spaced mature trees surrounding them. Had Emarr arrived at night the lights from the windows might have betrayed the city's presence, but now, in the middle of a hazy early autumn morning, the city was well camouflaged. Emarr smiled. This was his kind of planet. Very few advanced races managed to live in harmony with their environments. Emarr was prepared to like the Norhel people very, very much. "I wonder how they manage to build without disturbing the trees," Jannia said. "This would be a nice place to live. Lots of privacy from the neighbors." "Perhaps you might want to retire here," Emarr suggested. Jannia sniffed and shook her head. "Retire? Who lives to retire?" "Aden Locke." "Locke didn'tretire. He got out because Kerra didn't want to marry a smuggler." "He retired because it was time for him to retire," Emarr corrected. "Kerra was the catalyst that helped him to realize that." "Do you ever think about hanging it up?" Jannia asked. "I imagine that since adopting Akaril the thought must have crossed your mind." Emarr hesitated before answering her. How would she feel if he told her the truth? That retiring for Akaril's sake would not be an issue, since, adoptive father or not, he would not be the one raising her? Not if they succeeded in finding the homeworld. Giving Akaril over to the care of theKinya-d'sar adepts was not the same thing as abandoning her to the mercies of a mother who could not even care for herself, but he doubted Jannia would see it that way. How would knowing his plans affect her opinion of him? He could do nothing to heal her if he lost what tentative trust he had gained. "I will do what is necessary to give Akaril the kind of life she needs," he said. "But I need to know, first, that our people are safe from further enslavement." "In other words, you'll chart that course when you get to it," Jannia said. They emerged from the forested area of the city into the vast, bright clearing that housed the village's open-air marketplace. Emarr felt a sharp, sweet pain as the sight of the place flooded him with memories of home. In his village, the booths that radiated like the spokes of a wheel out from a single, central hub had not been permanent synthetic-aggregate structures but brightly colored tents, and the central structure not a fountain but a well from which the whole community drew its water. Still, in the back of his mind he could almost hear women's voices laughing and talking in the language of his childhood. The language his own child did not even know. "Your kind of place?" Jannia said with the ghostly shadow of a smile. He just nodded. "The most efficient thing to do would be to split up," Jannia said, handing him the datapad with their shopping list. "You get the staples, and I'll handle the perishables. That way I know we won't end up with so much it goes bad before we get to eat it. We'll meet at the fountain in one hour. Remember, weagreed on this list. Don't get anything that isn't on it." "The fountain in one hour," he agreed, and wondered if she noticed that that was all he was agreeing to. Her deletion of half the items on the list he'd prepared did not constitute agreement as he understood the word. She had, of course, said nothing about the items he had not bothered to add to the list in the first place. "Just the list, Emarr," Jannia reiterated more firmly, her eyes narrowing. "Until later, my love," Emarr said with a slight bow, and ducked through the narrow alley between two booths before she could say anything else. * * * "Until later, my love,"Jannia muttered through clenched teeth as she stalked between the rows of booths in search of fresh fruits, vegetables and proteins. "Bloody arrogant male. If he thinks he can just placate me with a couple of pretty words and then do whatever the hell he wants..." She cut off her own rant in mid-sentence. Emarr hadn't been trying to placate her. He hadn't even bothered to make the attempt. He was going to get whatever the hell he wanted to get no matter what she said, so why waste time arguing? "My love" had probably just slipped out. At least it was an improvement over "Pale One". The layout of this marketplace was almost as frustrating as he was. Having all of the same kind of merchandise in one area would have made a lot more sense, but apparently no one had thought of that. There was no rhyme or reason to what went where. A vendor offering small live animals for companion purposes shared a duplex stall with one selling hot fresh-cooked meats, a juxtaposition whose problems seemed nauseatingly obvious to Jannia. She managed to find one stall selling fresh native vegetables and had just finalized a purchase when she turned around and saw him. Azaran Rogai. He was standing in front of the meat stall with a huge poultry leg in one hand and a big wad of napkins in the other, looking vaguely in her direction. She cursed, softly but plainly. What the hell was he doing here? He should still be on Miakar, trying to amass enough ill-gotten credits to replace his impounded ship. He was on Ziala's payroll. If he saw her and Emarr together... Well, he wouldn't. She'd go back to the ship. Hopefully Emarr would think to check there before he started searching the marketplace for her. She turned to face the stall closest to her, a clothing vendor whose brightly colored wares made Jannia wonder if a rainbow had exploded in the area recently, and the proprietor been on hand to gather up the scraps. She picked up an intricately pattern-dyed tunic in what looked very much like natural silk, and made a show of examining it. "Not your style, Wise." A chill ran through Jannia as a large male body brushed against her vulnerable back. She bit her lip, hard, fighting the urge to strike out or to bolt, and turned to see Rogai literally leaning over her shoulder. She cursed inwardly. A moment later, she cursed outwardly as well, as grease from his poultry leg dripped onto the garment she'd been examining. "I'm not paying for a stained tunic on your account, Rogai." The Norhel proprietor turned away from the rack of dresses she'd been examining and glared at them. Shorter than most adult humanoids and pinker-skinned than a newborn Human, she didn't present a very intimidating image. Rogai dropped a few coins on the counter. "My gift to the lady." The sarcasm in his voice when he spoke the word "lady" made Jannia want to wrap her hands around his throat. "Keep it," she said, shoving the garment at him. He caught it awkwardly in his napkin hand, getting even more grease on it in the process. "What, you're not even going to thank me? I know you took the contract with Ziala McGann. She was so pleased with you, she paid me half again the finder's fee we'd agreed on. I made enough on you to finish replacing my ship." "Then you should be the one thanking me," she said, turning back to the neat stacks of tunics on the stall counter in front of her. "Now go away." "You're going to be worth even more to me now," Rogai said. His voice was a taunting singsong like that of a smart-mouthed child. "I spotted you long before you saw me. And I sawhim , too. I heard how he spoke to you,my love. What do you think McGann will say when she finds out her new agent's been keeping company with her favorite ex-slave, hmm?" Jannia gritted her teeth. She should have insisted Emarr wear his dark-skinned Human disguise. It had been on the tip of her tongue to suggest it to him, but the thought of helping him with the application again, after that disturbing incident on the bridge-no. She hadn't been ready to touch him again so soon. "Now for the right price," Rogai continued, "I might be willing to forget what I saw. Say, thirty thousand credits. And one night in my cabin. I'd love to be able to tell everyone I was the man who finally thawed out the infamous Jannia Wise." "I'd rather take my chances with Ziala." Jannia thought of drawing her blaster. She didn't want to. Not here. Not in the middle of a crowded public marketplace, filled with lovely, vulnerable innocent bystanders. "Suit yourself." He started to turn away. "Wait!" Rogai turned back, a wicked look of triumph on his smooth Amardel face. His gaze roved over her body in rapt anticipation. Nausea twisted at Jannia's gut. This amoral little weasel wouldn't appeal to her if she had the sex drive of Vaialora and Tamiana Liori combined. The thought of his touching her as Emarr had-more so than Emarr had... And the thought of giving him nearly all of her credit file didn't exactly thrill her, either. But it would be much, much simpler to deal with him once they were alone. "You have a deal," she said. "Good," said Rogai with a wide grin. "Just to seal the bargain, of course, you'll hand over your weapons. All of them." * * * The walk back to the spaceport seemed to take eons. Deprived of her weapons, Jannia felt worse than vulnerable. She felt naked. The thought made her cringe inside. Somehow, she had to take control of this situation. "I'll need to go back to my ship for a moment," she said. "Going back to your ship wasn't part of the deal. I'm not eager for a confrontation with that colorful boyfriend of yours." Rogai's voice was low and menacing, calculated to intimidate. It reminded her chillingly of Gandes. She had to remind herself that Rogai wasn't even in his league. "Do I look like a suicidal idiot, Rogai? I don't keep thirty thousand credits on me. If you want it, you have to let me get it. But if you're so afraid of Emarr Dengas, you can go back to your ship and wait for me." The taunt had no apparent effect on Rogai. "That would involve trusting you," he said. "I'd rather learn from Ziala's mistake than go to the trouble of making it myself." "Suit yourself." Jannia headed across the spaceport tarmac toward her ship. By the time they reached theIce Dagger, a plan was already beginning to form in her mind. "Wait here," she told Rogai as she started up the boarding ramp. "Fat chance," he countered, drawing a blaster-hers-and aiming it at her back as he followed her. Jannia scowled. She hoped he wasn't going to follow her right into her cabin. Would he be stupid enough to try something here, when as far as he knew Emarr could come back at any moment? If he decided to collect part two of his payment before she was ready... Well, she wasn't some helpless teenager any more, and he wouldn't get what he wanted easily. Get a grip, Jann, she told herself.He's just making sure you don't have a chance to grab a weapon. Which still meant he probably intended to follow her into the cabin. Somehow her plan didn't seem as clever right now. She struggled to control the terror that surged unbidden within her as she crossed the threshold into her cabin. He did not go in with her, but leaned casually in the doorway, the barrel of her blaster resting on his arm but still aimed in her direction. His slack, arrogant posture was a weakness, she noted. If she went for the weapon now, there was a chance... There was also a chance he'd get her square in the chest. Emarr would return from their missed rendezvous and find her body sprawled burned and broken on the very spot where she'd first kissed him awake. She could see him in the vid-screen of her imagination, holding her limp and lifeless shell in his arms, his expressive face distorted with the anguish of rage and loss. She could never do that to him. Not knowing how he felt about her. Not even if the alternative was letting Rogai have her. "Why don't we just get it over with here," she found herself saying. "Emarr won't be back for at least another half hour." "I like to take my time," Rogai said. He sneered."Get it over with? You really know how to stroke a man's ego. I'm beginning to wonder whether you'll even be worth it." But he stepped into the cabin and let the door slide closed behind him. "But what the hell. I don't think I want to trust you on my ship." He held out his hand. "The credit file first, though, if you don't mind." "You're a real romantic, Rogai." Jannia unlocked the lower drawer on her nightstand and reached in. Rogai straightened his back and braced his feet. Jannia kept her gaze locked on the blaster muzzle that was now aimed straight at her wrist. She found what she sought by touch alone. Deft fingers fumbled with the controls on the syringe, increasing the dosage, then rolled the slender cylinder to the very front of the drawer. Then her fingers closed on the credit chip and pulled it slowly out. "Give it to me," Rogai ordered. "Open palm. I want to be sure there's nothing else in your hand." She did as he told her. He spared the chip only the briefest of glances before slipping it into his pocket. "Very good," he told her. "Now take off your clothes. No, just your pants. And never mind taking your time about it." Fear welled up in her heart, and bile in her throat, but she forced both down mercilessly. Her eye throbbed in protest and memory. She fumbled at the fastening of her pants, struggling to still her trembling hands. She wasn't going to have to go through with it, she reminded herself. She just had to wait for the right moment. And hope to hell he didn't notice that she hadn't closed the drawer. The fastening gave way under her fingers and she pushed her pants down her hips, trying not to think about the heat of his gaze, about the growing bulge in the front of his pants as he watched her. She struggled against the fear, against the reflexive urge to fight or flee, adopting a forced, logical calm that went against every instinct. Not a knee in the groin. He'll expect me to try that. I have to take him off guard. He didn't even put the blaster down as he came toward her, one hand fumbling at the front of his pants. One step. Two. Almost close enough.Can't move too soon... He grabbed her arm with his now-free hand and jerked her close, and she tried like hell not to think about what was pressing against her belly. The hand holding the blaster snaked around the back of her neck. She put her arm around him and pressed her body close against his. Her mouth met his in a hard, bruising kiss. Every cell in her body screamedNO! But she silenced the visceral protest. Her free hand slipped into the open drawer. His gun arm tightened around her shoulders, freeing his other hand to slip under her tunic, groping for a breast. Jannia wrapped her arm around Rogai's waist and pressed the syringe's cold tip against the base of his spine and pressed the trigger. A vile-sounding Amardel curse blistered the air as Jannia shoved at him, pushing out of his slackening embrace. Panic stabbed at Jannia as she watched him, eyes wide. The drug had been meant for her, for a Human physiology. Using it on Rogai was a gamble. If it didn't work fast enough-if it didn't work at all- Rogai staggered, fighting to get his balance back, and struggled to raise his stolen blaster. A single word-"bitch!"-erupted from his lips as the muzzle wavered toward her at a lethally close range. She launched herself to the side- There was a brief instant of blinding, searing pain before her head struck the edge of the nightstand, extinguishing consciousness like a flame plunged into vacuum. CHAPTER 13 ========== She was late again. Emarr muttered darkly to himself as he leaned against the fountain's edge, resting his sore feet. The cobblestones that paved the marketplace lanes were picturesque, but they were also hard and uneven and he had been standing on them for far longer than he'd planned. Difficult, annoying woman. She had told him what to buy and how much, dictated the time and place for them to meet again. Now she could not even manage to keep her own schedule. Damn it, she had been the one reminding him constantly of the time constraints, as though stopping his people's enslavement meant more to her than it did to him. He frowned. Shehad been almost obsessive about the timeframe. Impatience had been one of her traits as long as he had known her. Her delay in meeting him on Settlan had been so irritating preciselybecause it was out of character. Then, she had been seriously considering not meeting him at all. Emarr's lips pressed together in a tight frown. Could his inadvertent invasion of her mind have been enough to frighten her into abandoning him here? No. She had committed herself to helping him deal with Ziala, for Lirah's and Akaril's sakes if not for his own. That, she would not run away from. At least, he did not believe she would. How well did he really know her? He quelled the thought. It was not like him to doubt the path the gods had laid out for him. But what could have kept Jannia? Well, he would wait no longer for her. There were perishable items in the sacks by his feet that needed to be put away properly. And the midday sky was beginning to darken threateningly. If Jannia had anything to say about his returning to the ship without her, he had some things to say to her in return. He slung the two sacks of food, and the other one, over his shoulder and started back toward the ship. The rain started before Emarr got halfway back to the spaceport. By the time he reached the ship his hair and skin were soaked, and his suede pants chafed painfully, doing nothing for his mood. It wouldn't be the benign, gentle Emarr that Jannia encountered when she finally made her way back. He had been too soft in his dealings with her. Neither her past nor his feelings for her gave her license to- The thought died half-formed. Emarr stared at the remote key in his hand, which he had been about to use to deactivate the ship's security field. The indicator light on the key glowed dimly but steadily golden, indicating that the field had already been deactivated. This was not right. Why would Jannia return to the ship without him? He activated the key, and the entry hatch lowered, forming the boarding ramp. He drew his blaster as he moved up the ramp. The corridor lights were on, but the ship was eerily silent. Emarr left the ramp open behind him, lest the sound of its closing warn the intruder of his presence. If there even was an intruder. He smelled it before he had reached the lounge. A scent he knew too damned well. Nothing else in the universe smelled quite like the sharp tang of fresh blaster fire. His fingers tightened on the handgrip of his blaster. His heart seemed to go still inside him, as though it were afraid to beat. Whispering a harsh Lidaru prayer, he made his way toward the cabins. The blaster-fire smell was strongest here. Strong enough to burn Emarr's nostrils. He held his breath as he scanned the control panels beside the cabin doors. Fear clutched at him, grabbed at his belly with cold, taloned hands. Things Jannia had said reverberated in his mind, things that had chilled him even as she said them. That she had no future, no destiny, except to die young and alone. She could not. Please, gods-I could not bear it. I cannot have failed her so badly. The door to Jannia's cabin gaped open. Whispering a harsh desperate prayer, Emarr braced himself for the worst, and stepped inside. Jannia lay by the side of her bed in a crumpled heap, nude from the waist down. One sleeve of her tunic was torn and burned. Worse than that, a dark ooze of blood stained the worn carpet under her head. He stared at her in shock, the cold dread that filled his soul almost suffocating him before he noticed the rise and fall of her chest. Slow, barely visible, but it was there. Emarr closed his eyes and breathed a prayer of relief before he went to her. The subdermal syringe had slipped from her hand and lay near her still, pale face. Emarr touched her cheek, felt her throat for a pulse. It was slow and weak, but there. He opened his empathic sense to her, but she was far from consciousness. He felt nothing from her but the vague, distant pain that would be anything but vague and distant once she regained awareness. "What happened here?" he asked aloud. There was, of course, no answer. Emarr tenderly brushed the tangled, matted strands of hair back from her face to examine the wound. Just forward of and above her temple, the skin was torn. She would have a scar in the same place as his, if she chose to keep it. Carefully, he touched the wound. The bone felt solid, unbroken. He drew a hissing breath as he felt the pain of his ministrations through his link with her, but managed a grim smile. Jannia had been accused of hard-headedness many times. Apparently it was true. He turned his attention to her arm, bracing himself for the worst. He had seen close-range blaster wounds on a woman he cared about before. Kerra, on Advarra. Her flesh had been fused and blackened, like melted plastic. The regeneration treatments had been long and painful. He carefully peeled back the burned edges of the fabric and released the breath he had been holding. The wound was barely the span of his hand, the skin red and blistered around a smaller patch that was burned more deeply. Bad, but not nearly as bad as Kerra's wound had been. Still, bad enough. An inch or two to the left, and the bolt would have missed her. An inch or two to the right- Emarr did not want to think about it. A careful examination found no trace of other injuries. He lifted her carefully to avoid the blaster wound and laid her gently on the bed before going in search of a medkit. * * * Jannia awoke to the certain knowledge that she'd died and gone to Hell. That was the only conceivable explanation for the throbbing, shattering agony pounding through her head. It felt like her brain was trying to burst free of her skull. Yes, Hell. Where all her past sins, every harm she had ever done another, would be visited on her. This had to be her punishment for what she'd done to Emarr the day they met. Yes, that was it. And if this was how he'd felt, she deserved every second of it. She shook her head at the thought, and instantly regretted it as a fresh jolt of pain threatened to split her skull in two. Since when did she even believe in things like Heaven and Hell? Tentatively, she opened her eyes and forced them to focus despite the pain. Hmmm. Hell looked an awful lot like her cabin. And as soon as she registered that fact, she became aware of the steady, barely noticeable vibration of a ship's engines under power. She was in space. That wasn't right. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. The marketplace. She'd been in the marketplace when- Jannia ground her eyelids closed and fought against the memory that swam up through her consciousness. Where was traumatic amnesia when she needed it? Carefully, she tried to roll onto her side, only to curse like a disgruntled dockworker as the pressure of her weight on the mattress set her arm on fire. She rolled back onto her back, and turned just her head. Rogai. He wasn't there. Panic surged within her. Had her concerns about the drug's effect-or lack of effect-been right? Was Rogai even now on his way to warn Ziala of her betrayal? She tried to struggle upright, but God, how it hurt. Her vision swam with tears of pain. The cabin door hissed open. Jannia blinked fiercely, trying to focus on the large green shape coming toward her. "Jannia." The familiar accented voice was pitched low in consideration of her pounding skull. "You must not try to get up, my love. The medkit scanner indicates you have a concussion. You were fortunate to escape worse injury." Ignoring his injunction, Jannia tried once again to sit up, ignoring the pain. But the softness of the sheets sliding against the bare skin of her legs-and other parts-was harder to ignore. She glanced down at the thin blanket covering her and decided to listen to him, for now. "How badly is my arm hurt?" she asked. "Second degree burns for the most part. A third degree burn no larger than a credit chip. Nothing the medkit cannot handle, but there will be some scarring. To your face, as well." He pointed to his own scar. "Here." "And I thought couples with matchingshirts were obnoxious." Jannia laid her head back against the pillow. "Where's Rogai? Did he get away?" "Rogai?" The name was both a question and a curse. "Ziala's recruiter. What was he doing here?" "He saw us together. He threatened to tell Ziala we were working together if I didn't pay him off." Emarr's gaze fell to the blanket covering her bare legs. "I take it he was looking for something other than money." "Oh, he wanted money, too." The words tasted bitter in Jannia's mouth. "Did he get away?" she repeated. "Yes." Jannia emitted a stream of invective calculated to discolor the air. "Damn. That was my whole main account. Without it, all I've got is the few hundred credits in my fallback and this ship." "Then we will just have to find Rogai and get it back," Emarr said. "Preferably before he goes to Ziala with the news of your betrayal." He raised his eyes to her face. "Did he-" She shook her head. "I jabbed him with the syringe while he was-distracted." She should have felt a surge of fear at the memory, but all she felt was an odd detachment. "He got a shot off before he went down."If he went down. "And what would you have done if you had not been able to access the syringe, before he-got close?" "I don't know," Jannia said quietly. He looked down at her. "When you are stronger, we will discuss exactly what you thought you were doing." Emarr had his empathic sense locked down tighter than a shipment of unstable explosives. Nothing at all leaked through. But the anger and concern in his voice were unmistakable. "Why wait?" she asked. "If you think I'm too fragile to brave your wrath, I promise you I'm not." "No man with a brain in his head could ever consider you fragile," Emarr said. "You have already survived things that might have crushed a lesser woman. But no one with a heart would say the things I feel like saying to you now. The risk you took-I cannot see how you, of all women-" He shook his head. "We will not speak of it now." Jannia nodded slowly. Even that slight motion made her head throb. It wasn't her style to defer a confrontation, but she'd play it his way for now. "I have something for you." Jannia looked up at him. In the space of a moment, his tone had gone from that of a worried, angry man to that of an eager little boy with a fistful of crumpled wildflowers behind his back. Her eyes narrowed. "What?" She'd given him very explicit instructions about what to buy on the planet. If he'd loaded the ship with perishables- "Not now," Emarr said. "I will show you later. For now, you must rest." * * * But she did not rest. At least, not for a long time. Her concussion and the shock of her burns may have weakened her, but inner turmoil and her own stubborn will kept her from surrendering to the healing power of sleep. Restlessness, anger at him, the memory of her own fear and revulsion at Rogai's touch-he did not even try to shield himself from the dark tide of emotion sweeping out from her like a brewing storm. Emarr should not have said even what little he had said. She had known what she risked even better than he did. It was not as though she hadwanted Rogai's touch. She would have had her reasons. He suspected he knew what they were. It was only that the thought of that bastard's hands on her- His fists clenched so hard the knuckles cracked. Emarr had known men like Rogai. Jannia would have been nothing to him but a trophy. A particularly difficult conquest to boast about in every spaceport bar in the known galaxy. The only man alive who had managed to get Jannia Wise into bed- Rogai would not even care that he had torn open the half-healed scars on her soul and seared them with a welding laser. Slowly, her dark feelings ebbed as her body and mind grew too tired to maintain them. She slipped from consciousness, but not from Emarr's thoughts. The thought of what she had risked sickened and angered him. But that she had even been capable of contemplating it implied that she had seen the alternative as worse. She still feared a man's touch. But it was no longer the crippling terror it had been, if she could choose it as the lesser of two evils. Perhaps they had a chance. * * * Consciousness returned more gently this time. The throbbing in Jannia's head had eased to a dull, steady ache, at least as long as she kept still. Unfortunately, that made it harder to ignore the pain in her arm. At least she wasn't half-naked this time. She'd taken the time to put on a clean pair of pants before she'd given in to Emarr's injunction to rest. She stared up at the ceiling struts and wondered how long it would take before Emarr decided she was strong enough to be yelled at. Strangely, she found his anger comforting. There were times when she wondered if he were flesh and blood. His calm understanding, his patience with her fears were foreign to what she knew of male nature. Men didn't just wait around to be given what they wanted. They seduced, or just took, or found someone more willing. It made it hard for her to accept that he really wanted her as much as he said he did. She had expected him to be angry with Rogai, but not with her. The risk was hers to take. The consequences were hers to live with. But he acted as though he had had just as much at stake. As though her fate meant as much to him as it did to her. Perhaps even more. Right. She was his destiny, or so he'd said. To him, her fate and his were the same thing. He had said as much to her. But she had never understood what that meant before. Nor had she understood what it meant when he said he loved her. Now, she was beginning to. It was like Vaia had said, that evening on the catwalk-weeks ago, now.When you love someone, that person's happiness becomes more important to you than your own. That was why Emarr was angry. Because Jannia had risked losing what progress she had made. Because she'd risked losing, again, what she'd been struggling so hard to reclaim. He wanted it for her. Maybe more than she did. And not just because he wanted her, as she'd thought before. Yes, she was beginning to understand now. Her door signal chimed softly. Jannia drew a steadying breath. A part of her wanted to hide from him, from the disturbing realization forming within her. But if there was one thing Jannia Wise had never been, it was a coward. "Come in," she said. "You feel a little better?" The inflection made it sound like a question, but Jannia knew the difference. He had been "listening." Thank God he was sensitive only to emotions, and not to the content of her thoughts. Though that was bad enough under the circumstances. "A little," she said. "Have you come to chew me out?" "No. I have come to give you the gift I spoke of." Emarr ducked back out into the corridor and came back with a sack like those used in the marketplace. "You told me, once, that after you had replaced the urn you broke over my head you never took up the clay again. It would please me if you did so. You have a great talent for it." He laid the sack on the bed beside her. The edge of the mattress dipped under its weight. Jannia pulled open the sack and peeked inside. At the very top she could see the round flat disc of a potter's wheel. Tucked around this were the tools to go with it. Scrapers, shapers, rasps and knives of several different sizes and shapes. Little sample-sized vials of assorted paints and glazes. From the weight of the bag, the rest of it must be filled with blocks of raw clay. A hard jagged lump formed in her throat as the sack dropped from her trembling fingers. The tools of her craft, the craft she'd abandoned so long ago. She had toyed with the idea of taking it up again, but the reality of holding these things in her hands- "I have displeased you." The eager little boy in Emarr's voice sounded crushed now. "No." She wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. "It's a-" Her voice cracked and broke. She tried again. "It's a very-" She drew a deep, ragged breath. "A very thoughtful gift. Thank you." Emarr took the sack off the bed and laid it down on the floor. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached, tentatively, for her hands. She curled her fingers loosely around his. Ironic, she thought, thathe should require reassurance. "Jannia, what is wrong?" he asked. "I'm sorry," she said. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He squeezed her fingers. "Tell me." "I told you I hadn't worked in clay since I replaced the urn I broke. I didn't tell you how long it had been before that." She gripped his fingers so tightly they turned paler than her own. "It had been five months." "Five months." He said something vile-sounding in his own language. "Gods, Jannia. Had I known-" "Yes, five months," she said, cutting off his next words. "Since Gandes. I was working the clay when he-when he came in. I always did when I was upset. That was the day Aden Locke came to give me the talk. You know the one. 'I like you, Jann. You're a very special young lady. You're like the kid sister I never had.'" Her throat stung with the pain of remembered humiliation. "He was nice. Kind. But there's no painless way to tell someone you don't love them back." She heaved a heavy sigh. "I remember what I was making. It was a bird. A soaring hawk. But I couldn't make it come out right." "You need not talk about this now," Emarr said. "You are injured. Weak. It is all right. I will get rid of the clay." "Don't you dare." Jannia stared down at their joined hands. "And I want to talk about it." Emarr opened his mouth to utter another protest, but Jannia cut him off before he could speak. "Gandes came to theFolly, hailed her, and I was so distracted I lowered the boarding ramp without asking who it was. I knew him from Vaia's description, but it was too late. I'd already let him on board." "I thought he broke in-" Jannia shook her head, hard. "That's what Vaia thought. I never told her otherwise. I was afraid she-" She gave a miserable little shrug. "Silly, huh? I'd been raped, and sliced up, and left for dead, and I was worried about getting a lecture from Mommy about opening the door to strangers." Emarr opened his mouth, doubtless to utter some heartfelt and useless reassurance that none of what had happened was her fault. She silenced him with a chopping gesture. She had to finish this. She needed him to hear, to understand. To know what his choice of gifts meant to her. "Gandes grabbed me, demanded to know where she was. I wouldn't tell him. He tore my clothes. I struggled. The table got knocked over, and clay flew everywhere-" "No more," Emarr's voice, tight with emotion, cut her off. "No more. I cannot bear it. The thought of what he did to you-" He squeezed her hands. "I will get rid of the clay," he said again. "I should never have got it." "Yes, you should." Jannia released his hands and reached up to touch his face. "I'd thought of taking it up again before now. The other day, when you were sleeping on the floor of my cabin, I looked at you and thought about what a challenge it would be to sculpt your likeness. I told you, I want to take back what Gandes stole from me. That meanseverything he stole from me." "I am glad," Emarr said. "And I would be honored to have you sculpt my likeness, when you are stronger." "It's a deal." * * * "We might as well get this over with now." Emarr looked up from his examination of the navigational log. "Get what over with?" "Your lecture," Jannia clarified. "The one you've been waiting until I got stronger for. Well, I'm stronger. The headaches are all but gone, and the burn on my arm's shaping up into a first-class battle scar. I'm thinking of picking up a few sleeveless tunics on Mercala so I can show it off." "Do not," Emarr said. "You should have it regenerated. The one on your face, too." "You kept the scar I gave you." "That was different. I wear your mark as a symbol of what you mean to me. Why would you want to wear Rogai's mark? I should think you would wish to erase all memory of his touch." "You're awfully easy to bait, do you know that?" Jannia said. "I've never kept a physical scar before and I have no intention of keeping these. The ones on my soul are ugly enough." "Your soul is not ugly, Jannia," Emarr said. "I wish you could see yourself as I see you. I wish you would let me show you-" Jannia cut him off. "The lecture, Emarr. You've been seething about what I almost let happen with Rogai for nearly a week now. We need to get it out in the open, so we can put it behind us." "It is behind us," Emarr said. "I know I said we would speak of this when you were stronger, but I was deeply upset then. You do not know the things that ran through my head when I returned to this ship and smelled blaster fire. And then when I saw you lying there in your own blood, half naked, not moving-do you know what it is like to have your heart ripped out of your body? It enraged me that you would risk such a fate. But I know you would not take such a risk lightly." He looked at her with eyes dark with remembered emotion. "So there will be no lecture. But I would like to hear exactly what happened, if you are ready to tell me." Jannia's tongue slipped out to moisten her too-dry lips. "Probably just what you're guessing. Rogai saw us together, and he figured Ziala would bevery interested to hear how cozy her new agent was getting with the one man in the business with a vested interest in seeing her shut down. So he approached me with an ultimatum. Thirty thousand credits and a roll in the sheets, or he'd tell her what he saw. I thought about just taking him out, but you know what the grapevine in this business is like. My killing him publicly would get back to Ziala almost as fast as his own report."Besides which, someone else might have gotten hurt, she added silently. "Then there's the possibility that he might have killedme ." "He came close to killing you anyway." Emarr leaned back in the copilot's seat and looked at her. "And that was not the only risk you were taking. What if the drug you used had no effect on his species? What if it had an effect you could not predict? You knew his intentions, and yet you deliberately put yourself in a position where he could rape you. Why would you risk that? Why would you let him touch you like that? The thought of his hands on you-" He bit back the rest of what he was going to say. "The thought of his hands on mewhat , Emarr?" Emarr's fingers dug into the arms of his seat. "It enrages me. I wish I could have blown him out an airlock so I could watch him die. That he would present you with such an ultimatum sickens me. That you would accept it-" He ground his teeth together. "Well, I couldn't very well let him tell Ziala I'd been seen with you, could I? If I lose her trust, it will ruin everything. So the thought of Rogai's hands on me sickensyou? How do you think I feel? I saw the effect reminders of Ziala still have on you. It's no wonder you're so keen on helping me heal. It isn't just this destiny foolishness, is it? Youunderstand. In some ways, you're as screwed up as I am." Emarr's lips curved in an ironic smile. "Of course. That is why we are perfect for each other." Jannia looked away. "I risked what I did for you, Emarr. Because what Rogai wanted from me was nothing at all compared to what that McGann woman did to you." Emarr swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing convulsively. "I am not worth such a risk." "Maybe I think you are. Certainly Akaril and Lirah are. They've suffered at Ziala's hands too. Men, women, children. Too many, and more if we don't stop her. But if it had only been you, the risk would still have been worth it." "Why?" Emarr said. "Because I know you would have risked worse for me." "Is that all?" he asked softly. Jannia slowly shook her head. "No, that's not all." She chewed at her lower lip. "I was so scared, Emarr. I knew there was a chance my plan wouldn't work, that I wouldn't get to the syringe on time. That I'd have to go through with it. And I didn't know if I could. But when I thought about what was at stake..." She drew a deep, sharp breath. "It would have been bad. But it wouldn't have been as bad as letting Ziala slip through our fingers. I could have done it. But I don't know what it would have done to me, how I would have faced it, afterward. I'm very glad I didn't have to." "So am I." Emarr reached for her hand. "Please do not put yourself in such a position again. Not for me. I do not think I could bear it." His thumb stroked the backs of her fingers. "Promise you will let no man touch you again, until you want him as much as he wants you. Even if it means I can never have you. Promise me." Jannia pulled her hand out of his. "I can't promise that. I will do whatever it takes to stop Ziala from hurting any more of your people, no matter what the risks are. There are some things more important than my safety. As for waiting until I want you as much as you want me, what kind of score card do you suggest we use?" Emarr's lip curved in a rueful smile. "I concede your point." "Good. Because I don't want to wait any longer. I'm tired of being afraid. I told you once to stay out of my head unless I invited you. Well, this is it. I want to be with you. Tonight. Before anything else has a chance to go wrong. And if that means you need to...to help me..." She sucked in a steadying breath through her teeth. "You took me off guard the last time. This time I'll know what to expect." Emarr's deep brown eyes watched her face as his senses reached out, tentatively, to brush against the edges of her mind. Trying to gauge the sincerity of her words? She fought the urge to shield herself. Her spirit opened, and she let him in. The warmth of his empathic sense touched her soul, as gentle as any caress, but he held a part of himself back. She could feel it, there, behind the mental wall he'd erected to contain it as he explored her mind, her spirit, seeking the truth behind her words, the readiness she claimed. A moment later he withdrew, pulling back into himself, and she missed him. He smiled sadly. "You are not as ready as you believe you are, my love." "I don't care. I want to try." "Then we will." He bent over to kiss her, very gently, on her brow. "Tonight." CHAPTER 14 ========== No. This was wrong, all wrong. Jannia balled up the nightdress in her hands and flung it down on top of the pile accumulating on the floor beside her bed. None of them were right. Nothing she owned was right. Plain, opaque fabrics, designed for warmth in the chill of space, not for seduction. There wasn't a single item in her nighttime wardrobe appropriate to wear to Emarr's cabin. To Emarr's bed. She frowned balefully down at the pile. Emarr's bed. He had insisted on that, because hers was haunted by the memory of too many dreams. As he had insisted she prepare herself, when all she had wanted was to go right to his cabin and get it over with before she lost her nerve again. Get it over with.Jannia grimaced. She had to stop thinking of it in those terms. She wanted this. Not just because it was something she had to do to get back what Gandes took from her. Shewanted it. Wantedhim. Her craving for him was a bittersweet ache low in her belly, at war with the tight clutching fear also centered there. Never before had the desire been so strong, so powerful. The fear would not win this time. She wouldn't allow it. There was only one nightdress left in the locker now, a long flowing one in pale silver, with a high-cut bodice edged in lace. It hung in the back, where she could easily have missed it had she not already hauled everything else out. Jannia frowned. She'd never seen it before. It was nothing like anything she might have bought for herself. But it wasn't hard to figure out where it had come from. Emarr had given her the clay, potter's wheel and sculpting tools openly, but he'd kept this gift to himself. He must have slipped it into her locker while she was in the sanitory. She drew the nightgown out and removed the hanger. It was silk, real silk, cool and soft against her fingers and so fine a weave it must have cost Emarr more than all his other gifts combined. She should be angry. He'd snuck into her cabin, broken into her locker and messed around in her personal things. But that was better, in her mind, than his giving her such an intimate gift openly. She could refuse it without embarrassment to either of them, just by pretending she hadn't found it. A man who understood her. What a strange and disturbing concept. She lay the nightdress out on the bed and stared at it. Did Emarr realize the irony inherent in the chaste style he'd chosen? She was anything but untouched. She'd been touched in ways most women could never imagine, or want to imagine. Her synthorg eye spasmed-one of these days she was going to have to get the defective thing seen to. She looked at the pile of discarded garments on the floor, then back at the one on the bed. She wished she could pretend tonight really was her first time. But her imagination had never been quite that good. Still, it was only a nightdress. Only a scrap of fabric she wouldn't be wearing for more than a few minutes before Emarr took it off her. She shivered at the thought, whether in fear or anticipation she couldn't have said. Her tunic and pants joined the pile of discarded nightclothes on the floor. * * * Emarr leaned back in his chair and released the breath he had been holding. He was never so attuned to Jannia as when his desire for her was strongest, and never had it been stronger than it was right now. He ached with it. Burned with it. He had waited so long, so patiently. Now, with the union he craved almost within reach... He had sensed her hesitation as strongly as if she had been touching him, and his growing sense of anticipation, of hope, had shifted into an impatience that shamed him. He himself had entertained doubts about whether or not she was ready. He should understand, accept. But all he could think about was how much he wanted her. He drew in a deep, steadying breath and struggled for control. She was coming to him, finally. He would be one with her, truly one with her, not just the mindless physical union he had sometimes allowed himself with others. But not if he frightened her by showing her the power of his need too soon. His door signal chimed. Emarr rose from the chair and went to open the door, though Jannia could as easily have let herself in. "Um...hi," Jannia said. She tried to meet his eyes and failed. Her gaze settled on his bare chest instead. Heat flooded her skin. "Come in." Emarr stepped aside to let Jannia move past him into the cabin. The silver nightgown swirled around her legs and clung to her upper body, revealing the delicate curves of her small breasts, the spare lines of her wiry little body. She was too thin, too pale, and heart-wrenchingly beautiful. She moved a few steps into the room and turned to face him. "Thank you for-this." Her fingers brushed against the soft fabric over her collarbone. "I like it on you." He could already imagine what the fabric would feel like between them, its cool softness sliding against their bare, fevered skin. His loins ached at the thought. "I wasn't sure if I'd wear it or not," she confessed. "It didn't feel right. Too-" She bit her lip. "Too what?" he asked. "Too-virginal." "Yes." So she understood the symbolism, if not the reason for it. "Why would that be wrong?" She rolled her eyes at him. "Please, Emarr. We're both a little old for playing pretend." "Pretend?" Emarr shook his head at her choice of word. "There is no pretense involved, my love. Youare a virgin." Jannia shook her head. "You need a refresher course in Galactic. A virgin is someone who's never had sex." "Well," Emarr said in a very reasonable voice, "you have not." Jannia stared at him as if his head had just fallen off. "Even you're not that deluded. You know what Gandes did to me." "Yes. I know what Gandes didto you. " His careful emphasis on the last two words elicited a subtle change in Jannia's emotional flavor. Not comprehension, not yet. But interest, at least. "Perhaps you were right when you said I need a better understanding of Galactic. In my language, the commonly used words for mating are much more active than 'having sex' or 'making love'." "We've got some more active terms too." "Crude ones," Emarr admitted with a dismissive wave and a valiant attempt to restrain his disgust, "with a strong connotation that one's partner is little more than a tool to satisfy an urge. One such term is even tool-related." He grimaced. "Ours carry quite different nuances of meaning. We have, for instance, one word that specifically refers to the female's role. There is no adequate translation. But as I said, it is an active term, implying far more than mere consent." Jannia gave an impatient shake of her head. "Semantics." "No. No, Jannia. A very real, very powerful distinction. The difference between what was done to you and what you are about to do-" He cursed. Why did language always fail him when he needed it most? Jannia let out a small, impatient sigh. "Iknow there's a distinction, Emarr, or I wouldn't be here." She still didn't understand. "There is more to this. Almost all humanoid species share a belief that there is something special about a woman's first time. Some cultures consider it a gift, others a commodity. And some, a sacrament. But always there is the implication that it is something that can only be given once. It is said to be lost, or taken. I was dismayed, to say the least, to learn these terms. In my culture, we say a woman's virginity isgiven. Always given, Jannia. Never lost, nevertaken . It is her choice, her gift, to share her first knowledge of sensual pleasure with a man of her own choosing." "You mean the same man who decided when I was fifteen that I'm part of his destiny?" Emarr winced. Was his faith in their destiny together as arrogant as she made it sound? He believed they belonged together. He wanted her to believe it too. Was that so wrong? He had known she was too young, too fragile, too wounded. He had kept his distance, and waited. It was she who had come to him. This did not seem the best time to point that out to her. "You are not bound by whatI believe. Your destiny is your own to seek; your choices your own to make." "There are no choices. Not for me." Her gaze met his, and she made no effort to hide the depths of emotion behind her simple, blunt words. "You're the only man I want." The last word cracked and shattered, unable to contain the power of its own meaning. Jannia swallowed the shards of it and reached for him, awkwardly, with hands that trembled so hard he could sense their vibration even before they touched him. His hands cupped her shoulders, slid down her bare arms. Her skin was soft and smooth and cool, her spirit raw with fear and need. He stroked her arms slowly, gently, giving her his warmth, as he lowered his head to kiss her. * * * Jannia drew in a steadying breath as Emarr leaned toward her. Fear and desire mingled within her, a combination that had become achingly familiar. Her heart throbbed like a wild pulsar. The gentle stroking of his hands on her skin, meant to be soothing, enflamed and unsettled her. She trembled. She wanted him to get his hands the hell off her. She wanted him to touch her all over. His lips brushed hers softly, then more firmly. His hands slid to her sides, to her waist, and drew her closer. So close she could feel the warmth of his chest through the thin fabric of her gown. So close she could feel his hardness pressing with quiet insistence against her thigh. She drew in a quick, sharp breath.You can do this. It's Emarr. He isn't going to hurt you. "Look at me," he said. She raised her face to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were warm and dark with mingled lust and tenderness. "I love you," he said. Her heart swelled with an answering fullness, but when she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't come. "Do you trust me?" She hesitated, probably too long. Emarr stiffened in her arms, and she didn't need to be an empath to know she'd offended him. She ran her hands up and down his back. "I trust you as much as I trust anyone." Emarr's mouth quirked up at one corner. "That little?" "I want to." "Then do." He bent to kiss her brow. "I would cut out my own heart before I would harm you." "That won't be necessary." Slowly, deliberately, she slid her hands down his naked back and slipped them inside the waistband of his shorts. His skin felt good under her hands. Warm. He always felt so warm. She wanted to take his essence inside her, to fill the cold place in her soul with his warmth. He lifted his hand to brush the strands of dark hair back from her face. The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek. She closed her eyes. "That is right," Emarr's voice was low, soothing, hypnotic. "Be open to me. Let me in. Let me be one with you." He stroked her hair. "There is nothing to fear. I am already a part of you. I always have been." She could feel his mind brushing gently against the edges of hers, seeking a way past the barriers she'd erected around her soul. Warmth. Heat. Need. A tenderness that made her eyes sting and her pounding heart go still. She opened her soul to him. The wild, sweet warmth of Emarr's spirit filled her, flooding the hard, cold place deep inside her. The wall around her heart couldn't hold against it. He was primal and tender, gentle and chivalrous and arrogant as hell, secure in his beliefs about the universe and his place in it. His love wrapped around her, as tangible as his embrace. Her heart leaped in recognition, answering his love with a truth she could not have spoken aloud. Joy surged inside him, along with a certain smug male satisfaction that irritated her. She pulled away... He laughed softly. "How should I react, then? Should I be displeased that you love me?" "I never said I loved you." "You did not have to." She wanted to wipe that arrogant look off his face. He'd expected this all along. Probably from the moment she'd first let him hold her on Advarra. "Do not fight it, my love." His voice was low and coaxing. His hands moved over her, stroking her back, her shoulders. Caressed the back of her neck, twined in her hair. "Remember which of us began this." She resisted a moment longer, but she could not ignore the wild, moist heat rising inside her. She could scarcely breathe now, and her legs felt weak. God. He hadn't even touched her intimate places. Just the touch of his mind on hers set her afire. She trembled-trembled with fear of her own desire. It was going to happen. It was truly going to happen. "Emarr," she whispered urgently. "Emarr, I need-" "Shhh. I know." He kissed her, a soft caress of his lips on hers, as his mind stroked against the edges of hers. Calming. Soothing. He stroked the raw edges of her fear, eased them, gentled them, even as his hands and mouth enflamed her body. She opened her soul to him more fully, embracing his influence. He was holding something back now. She could no longer feel the strength of his desire through their empathic link. Only that calming, soothing touch. She missed the invasion of his raw primal soul.Soon , he promised wordlessly as he drew her body closer. His kiss was as demanding as his mental touch was tender. His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue stroking insistently at the edges of her lips, seeking and finding entry. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. God, he tasted good. She felt his delighted smile against her lips, just for a moment, as he broke the kiss. "Look at me," Emarr said. Jannia opened her eyes and gazed up into the beautiful male face just inches from hers. His eyes were dark with love and need. "What do you see?" Emarr asked. "I see you." "And who am I?" The man I love,she thought.My friend. My first, and probably only, lover. What she said was, "Emarr." He smiled, and she knew he had sensed what she didn't say. He reached for her hand and placed it, palm-down, over his heart. "Touch me," he said. His heart beat fast under her fingers as she explored him, feeling the male contradiction of him-smooth, supple skin over hard, powerful muscle. She stroked his pecs, his shoulders. She brushed the tips of her fingers over his small taut nipples and felt the sharp intake of his breath. Dipping her head, she kissed him there. His control slipped, and a shock of wild male desire overwhelmed her. Just for a moment. Jannia shivered, and not from fear, as he reasserted control. She shook her head at his raggedly hissed apology. "If you stop to say you're sorry every time you slip, love, we'll never get to the good part." She kissed his jaw.Hmm. Smooth. He caressed her shoulders, sliding his fingers under the thin straps holding up her gown. His gaze met hers questioningly. Slowly, she nodded. He drew one strap down over her shoulder, following it down with small damp kisses. She shivered. The gown's silky fabric slipped down on that side, exposing the upper swell of her breast to the cabin's cool air. Emarr touched her there, stroking her, warming her. His fingers slipped under the smooth fabric and stroked her nipple. The sensitive flesh puckered under his touch, sending a bolt of raw sensation straight to her loins. A moist, spreading warmth filled her. Emarr's mouth replaced his fingers, and Jannia groaned aloud. She had never known herself capable of so much sensation. Had never quite believed it existed. Emarr pushed the other strap down, baring her breasts fully to his eager, hungry mouth. He suckled, nibbled, devoured. Her back arched and she lost her balance, but he caught her in his strong arms and held her close as he ravished her breasts. Emarr lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She expected him to lay her down, to cover her body with his, and a fresh jolt of fear lanced through her. She wanted him, oh, how she wanted him, but the thought of his big male body holding her down, pinning her to the mattress- He put one knee on the bed and pivoted his body around. Jannia found herself in his lap, her arms around his neck and her legs draped across his. She could feel the hard length of him against her hip, hot and thick and much more ready for this than she was. A shiver rippled through her, though by now she was anything but cold. If she got much warmer, she was going to evaporate right out of his arms. He held her close with one arm, while the other hand stroked her thigh through the soft, smooth fabric of her gown. His mind brushed against hers, dispelling her fear, as his hand crept under the hem to caress her bare skin. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. He laughed softly. "Make all the noise you want, my love. Who is going to hear you?" His hand slipped between her thighs and squeezed gently. She whimpered out loud. "Jannia," he whispered. "You cannot know how good this feels. How goodyou feel." "Show me," she said. He shook his head. "Not yet." He lifted her, drew her to her knees. Reached for the hem of her gown. Jannia lifted her arms. Emarr stripped the gown from her and tossed it aside. A moment later his shorts joined it on the floor. She kept her gaze on his face as he put his hands on her hips and drew her close. She reached out with her mind, seeking to deepen their empathic connection- He left her. His hands were still on her, but his mind, his soul, were gone, leaving her once again alone in her own head, her own body. Her empty, bereaved soul cried out in protest at the loss. "Only for a moment," he promised softly. "This has to happen of your own free will, or it means nothing." A single tear slipped from Jannia's eye. She swallowed, and nodded. She reached for him, twined her fingers in his long, thick hair, and kissed him deep and hard as he guided her over him. He reached up to stroke her shoulders, to trail his long, strong fingers up and down her back. Soothing, arousing, encouraging. She lowered herself onto him and let him fill her. She gasped at the feel of him inside her. He was big. Very big, but it didn't hurt. It felt-there were no words for how it felt. Emarr wrapped his arms around her and held her very, very close. His voice whispered raggedly in her ear, words in his own tongue that she didn't understand. His soul opened to her again, and this time he held nothing back. His love, his need, washed over her like a great warm tide, carrying her with him. She gasped at the strength of it, clinging to his strong hard body, its solidity the only thing keeping her from being swept away. Then he began to move inside her. * * * Emarr moaned and ground his teeth together, fighting for a control as elusive as he had expected Jannia's response to be. She had left her fear behind, abandoned, forgotten. She gave him all of her. Her body. Her soul. Emotion and sensation washed out from her in ever- intensifying waves. Rising, building, growing. So powerful. So beautiful. Gods, he had waited so long for this, and even now, even throbbing with the building pressure of his own impending release, he could not believe it was happening. She trembled in his arms as the rising tide of pleasure became more than she could bear. She held him fiercely, desperately, pressing her body tight against his. He surged into her, body and spirit. Filling her. Warming her. Loving her. "Emarr." His name was a ragged puff of breath against his throat. She felt-what she felt drove the breath from his body and shattered his control.So raw. So desperate. So pure. It blasted his shields wide open, laid his soul bare. Jannia moaned raggedly as a surge of pure wild pleasure erupted from somewhere deep inside her. It took Emarr's breath away. Her desire was as wild and beautiful as the swirling depths of hyperspace itself. She buried her face in his hair and murmured coarse, meaningless words as she rode the tide of sensations sweeping them both away. He lost himself in her, in the incredible, bursting joy of her first release. He scarcely felt the sensations of his own body. She filled him, overwhelmed him. He had never dreamed, never dared hope, that their first time together could be like this. Who could have known this much passion lived inside her, just waiting to be set free? She shuddered, and he with her, as the wave reached its crest and crashed over them. She clutched him hard, digging her fingers hard into his flesh, and sank her sharp little teeth into his shoulder. She jerked back, startled, as in their joined state she felt the pain with him. Irritation flashed in her eyes and she glared down at him as though it werehis fault. Elation filled him. Gods,yes.If he had still needed a sign that this was right- He buried his face in her hair, muffling the laughter that welled up inside him to spill forth from his spirit and into hers like a fountain of pure, distilled joy. Breathless, helpless laughter tickled Emarr's ear as he surged into Jannia one last time, pouring his heart and soul and body into hers. CHAPTER 15 ========== "I don't suppose you need to ask if it was good for me," Jannia said some time later, the edge of her mouth quirking upward in irony. "Hhhmmmm." Emarr cuddled her a little closer and dropped a gentle kiss on her shoulder. "Was it?" She jabbed him with her elbow. He winced. She grinned to herself. Now that she was back alone in her own head, she could get away with that. She snaked her head around to glance at his shoulder. A dark bite-shaped welt was already forming there. A flush of embarrassment heated her skin. "Your laugh," Emarr said quietly, "was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard." "Then I guess I should bite you more often." She smiled. It felt strange. Good, but strange. "Surely there must be less painful ways to make you laugh." "Hey, you were the one who found it so damned funny. I was just along for the ride." "I would not have figured you for a biter." "I wouldn't have figured I could lose control like that the first time. I'm beginning to understand why you've never lacked for female company over the years." Emarr shook his head. "What you and I have shared was special, my love. I was able to awaken the passion you had buried because you let me into your soul, and I let you into mine. I have shared this with only one other woman in my life-and then, it was not by choice." Jannia cursed. "Ziala." "Yes." "I hate her. I want to rip her uterus out and feed it to her with hot sauce." Emarr chuckled. "Hot sauce? I admire your attention to detail." "I can't imagine being forced to do what we just did. It's so-intimate. If I'd realized beforehand how intimate, I don't think I could have gone through with it. But while it was happening, I don't think I could have stopped if I'd wanted to. How did you stand it?" "Part of me liked it," Emarr admitted softly. "At least at first. But Ziala has-odd tastes. She would not have recoiled at the pain of her own bite. She would have reveled in it. It excited her. Enhanced her pleasure. And gods help me, I would let her hurt me, just to feel what it did to her. Once I got free of her, I vowed never to give another woman that kind of power over me. I have enjoyed physical union with many others since, but you are the first with whom I have felt free to open my soul." Jannia shuddered. The scope of Ziala's violation of him sickened her. She had never understood before just how much his experience was like hers. But she had been violated once. Horribly, violently, but only once, and it had shattered her. How could he possibly have stood a violation that had lasted for years? "I took the treatments that were offered," he said, answering her unspoken question. "Drugs were not an option, for other reasons than yours, but there are other ways. I saw a Shian- ru healer for a time. She taught me spiritual techniques, meditations. There were things I remembered from my childhood, from what theKinya-d'sar did for me after my cousin's death, that I attempted on my own with some limited success. It was a long recovery. It was almost a year before I felt I could be with a woman in any kind of normal way, and I did not think I could ever make soul-love again. Then I met you, and I understood that one day, I would have to try." She shook her head. "I don't understand you when you talk like that. How can you look at a woman you'd never met before and believe she's your destiny? It was a random meeting. If you'd taken a different path that day, if I'd had my blaster with me-" "My beliefs are real to me," Emarr said. "Nothing is random. Everything is in the hands of the gods. The choices we make may draw us closer to or further away from our destiny, but it is always there, laid out before us, waiting for us to recognize it. You were not difficult to recognize." "That's the part I never got. What kind of man falls in love with somebody who bashes his head in? Anyone else would have put me on his 'people to avoid' list." "I was on the wrong path. The gods needed to get my attention." Jannia rolled her eyes. "I will never understand you. Not if I live to be a thousand." "Are a man and a woman required to understand each other before they can be together?" "I hope not. I don't know about your race, but mine wouldn't last a generation." "Nor mine," Emarr admitted. "I confess to understanding Human females more than those of my own people. Perhaps because your children are raised alike." "Hmmmm." Emarr's mention of children reminded her of an issue she had been avoiding. "I was nervous about asking you, so I took care of it myself, but just for future reference-" He moved his hand slowly across her flat belly, a caress that seemed almost sad. "I am not fertile with Humans. Nor, as far as I have been able to determine, with any race but my own." "How not-fertile?" "As not-fertile as one can be," Emarr answered. "There would be no danger of creating a Taben Kilborne, if that is what you were wondering." Jannia lay her hand over his, stilling its movement. "I just wanted to know if we had to worry about it. That's all." "We do not. Should we want children one day-if we remain together, that is-" She pulled her hand from his. "Please. I'm not ready to even talk about that. It's not something I've ever even thought about. I don't look that far ahead. You know that." "You should begin to," he said. "If you seek to reclaim all that Gandes took from you, your future beyond this moment is part of that. I do not mean to pressure you, but you should have some idea what you want. From me. From yourself. From life." "There's plenty of time for that," Jannia said. "Right now, I want to focus on my immediate goals. Stopping Ziala. Healing. Getting you to make thatsound again. I've never heard a sound like that-" "What sound?" "I don't think I could duplicate it. It's unique-like a moaning, growling squeak-" "I do notsqueak ." "Whatever you say." She shrugged, enjoying the movement of her skin against his. "How about you? Do you ever think about having kids? Besides Akaril, I mean." He was silent a long time, lying very still behind her. His hands rested unmoving on her body. "Emarr?" His thumb stroked back and forth across her navel. "I will abide by what the prospective mother wants. But I am certainly not against the concept." "Even if it had to be somebody else's kid?" He shrugged. "Why not? Akaril is." "You could have a kid of your own. If we find your homeworld. You could marry a nice, psychologically healthy Lidaru woman and have as many kids as you wanted." "I do not want to marry a Lidaru woman. I have acquired a definite preference for Human women. For one Human woman in particular." Jannia traced the edge of Emarr's biceps with one finger. "Anyone I know?" Emarr's answer was a wicked, sensual chuckle. The hand that rested against her belly drifted lower, slipping between her thighs to gently explore that part of her still warm and moist from his loving. "Oh, yes, Jannia. You know her very well indeed." His mind brushed hers, coaxing her spirit to open to him, to share with him her sweet, liquid pleasure at his touch. She have herself up to him, surrendering her body and soul as she closed her eyes and let rational thought drift away. * * * Vaia used to say that you could tell how well satisfied a man was by how deeply he slept afterward. Lying on her side, propped up on one arm, Jannia watched Emarr's chest rise and fall with each deep, slow breath. Looks like I didn't do too bad for a semantic virgin. Vaia hadn't said anything about what the woman's inability to sleep afterward meant. She'd long since got used to living for the moment, letting the future come when it came- -if it came. When she'd decided to pursue this thing with Emarr, she'd tried to set that aside, but old habits died hard, and she'd never really thought much about what would happen after they finally made love. If anything, she'd had some vague image of them being casual lovers, sharing a bed whenever they happened to run into each other, occasionally setting aside time for a little more. She should have known it couldn't possibly be that simple. Not with him. He wanted more from her. He wanted morefor her. She rolled away from him and lay there, staring at the wall. He thought she was hisdestiny. Could there be a less casual concept? He was willing to give up his chance at more kids for her. Big concession-she'd seen firsthand how much he adored the one he already had. God. No wonder her mind still shied away from thoughts of the future.He had a kid. It would be one thing to attempt something long-term with Emarr, to take the risk that things wouldn't work out, that one or both of them would be hurt. Involving the kid was something else entirely. Emarr had gone into this with his eyes wide open, knowing what he had at stake. If it went bad he'd survive, no matter what O'Hare said. He wasn't fragile. He wouldn'tshatter. He'd survive, just like he'd survived everything else life had thrown at him. He was stronger than she could ever dream of being. Akaril was another matter. She was young. Sensitive. Vulnerable. Jannia didn't want to get close to the kid only to have to leave her. She wouldn't do to any child what her father had done to her. She was going to go out of her mind if she stayed here, staring at the wall and torturing herself with speculation about things that might never even be. Damn Emarr and his talk of the future, anyway. Wasn't the damn present complicated enough? She cursed fluently. This wasn't the way it was supposed to work. She was supposed to drift off into a blissful, dreamless sleep, sheltered in her lover's arms. Instead, it was shaping up to be just one more night when she wouldn't sleep at all. Getting out of bed without waking him proved a challenge. He'd taken his half of the narrow bunk on the outside, so as not to inadvertently push her onto the floor in his sleep. Instead, he'd basically trapped her against the wall unless she wanted to climb over him. We're going to need a bigger cabin. That appallingly forward-thinking observation provided added motivation for Jannia's escape. She carefully extricated her legs from the blanket and inched her way down the bed on her hands and bottom. Reaching the foot, she sat for a moment and looked back at him. He mumbled something, and rolled toward her side of the bed, reaching for where she had been. When his questing hand found only her empty pillow, his eyes popped open. "Jannia?" "I'm just going to check the nav board. Go back to sleep." He rolled onto his back, folding his hands behind his head. "Are you coming back?" She reached out to give his foot a squeeze through the blanket. "Maybe. If I don't, it's not because I regret anything, okay? I just need-" She wasn't able to articulate what exactly she needed, but he nodded as if she had. "I will keep the bed warm for you," he promised in a voice too sexy to be legal. She bent down to retrieve her nightgown off the floor on her way out. * * * TheDagger had drifted a little off course, she discovered when she reached the bridge. Nothing serious-nothing that could not, technically, have waited until morning. Still, enough to give her something to do, to keep her hands and mind busy for a time, to take her mind off thoughts of the future. Of the decisions she was going to have to face sooner or later-preferably later. Unfortunately, it didn't take quite long enough. Once she'd fixed the course deviation there really wasn't much else to do. It was still early. Lots of night left. She should go back to bed, at least try to get some sleep. If only she could decide which bed she should be going back to. The ship gave an odd, shivering shudder, mirroring the unrest in her soul. Jannia sat straight up in her seat and looked around her. The ship shuddered again, harder. Jannia's throat tightened in apprehension. The failsafes should have kicked in at the first tremor. Her hands flashed across the console before her. The ship lurched, bucked and dropped out of hyperspace. Outside, the eerie, star-sprinkled blackness of true space surrounded theIce Dagger as the ship gave a final grinding, rasping shudder and went eerily, silently still. She hit the comm button. "Emarr, get up here! We have a problem!" She turned around to see him already standing in the doorway, wearing his sleep shorts and nothing else. He must have headed for the bridge the second he felt the first tremor. "We're dead in space," she told him grimly. "If I hadn't been in here when it happened, we'd be dead inhyperspace ." She suppressed a shiver at the thought of what that might have meant. Stranded in the void, where time and space were as fluid as air, with the main drive down and the failsafes off, they might have drifted light years, and real years, off course before they could get the drive repaired. "You suspect sabotage?" The dark anger in Emarr's voice told her where he was placing his bets. "I had this ship's engines completely overhauled when I bought her and I've had them checked every three months since. They were in perfect working order when I left Beckhaven after the wedding. And for the engines and the failsafes to go offline at the same time-yeah, I think it's sabotage. Rogai wanted to make damn sure we didn't get back to Ziala before he did-or maybe at all." "Then we must ensure that he does not succeed." Jannia nodded sharply. "You go have a look at the engine. I'll see if I can get the failsafes back online." * * * TheIce Dagger 's engines were far more than undamaged. They were pristine. Though Emarr went over them three times with increasing levels of thoroughness, he could not find any mechanical reason why they had shut down. Frowning, he went to the door panel and activated the comm controls. "Jannia? I have found nothing. The engines appear to be in perfect working order. Should I initiate the restart sequence?" There was a moment's hesitation before she answered. "Hold off a bit. The engines shut down for a reason, and I'm not comfortable getting them back online before I know what that is." There was a long silence, punctuated only by faint, unintelligible muttering. Then, abruptly, the silence became absolute. Chilling.Literally chilling, as an anger cold as space blasted down the length of the ship to sear his mind. In comparison, her voice was surprisingly soft and level. "Dengas, get your ass up here." Jannia swiveled around to face him as he walked onto the bridge. Her black eyes glittered at him like twin pools of ice. "I found the problem. Atimed shutdown command. The oldest, and I might want to add most pathetic, trick in the book. It wouldn't have taken Rogai more than ten minutes to plant. It shouldn't have taken you any longer than that to find. It wouldn't have takenme that long to find, except that I foolishly assumed you'd already performed the standard routine scans." Emarr's innards twisted in horrified guilt. How could he have been so careless? It had been an amateur's mistake, the kind that insured that most amateurs didn't survive very long. "Youalways double-check the engine control routines before you lift off," Jannia fumed. "That's standard procedure even when therehasn't been an intruder on board." "You were badly injured," Emarr said. "I was terrified for you. My only thought was to see to your care, and to get you away-as far away as possible from the one who had hurt you. I am sorry." "You'd have been a lot worse than sorry if I hadn't been on the bridge when this happened. I like TimeLost stories, but I'm not eager to become the main character in one. "And what would happen to that oh-so-precious child of yours if you were to vanish without a trace? Who would raise her then? Merilee O'Hare? She signed on to babysit for a while, not to adopt the kid." "I know this," Emarr said grimly. "The oversight was unforg-" Jannia erupted from the pilot's chair with an inarticulate roar of frustration. "Stop using that word! It's not going to work. I'm not going to forgive you out of pity for your own perfectly justified guilt. You screwed up. Live with it." She dropped back into the pilot's chair, effectively turning her back on him. "I need to go through the system again, see if Rogai left us any more nasty surprises. It's going to take a while." Emarr knew a dismissal when he heard it. * * * The sound of Emarr's bare feet retreating down the corridor made Jannia feel oddly bereft, considering she was mad enough to bite his balls. If he'd taken the time to do a proper systems check- If she'd lingered just a little longer in his bed- She pressed her fingers against her temples in an effort to suppress the tight ache building there. "If" had to be the most pointless word in the Galactic language. He hadn't, and she hadn't. They'd managed, by a spot of blind luck he'd probably want to credit to those gods of his, to avoid getting stuck in hyperspace with no control over their spatial or temporal course. But they'd still suffered a delay, because no way was Jannia restarting the engines until she was sure they wouldn't suddenly shut down again. It took Jannia four hours to determine to her satisfaction that Rogai hadn't done any more systems tampering, and to restart the engines. Four hours during which Rogai was probably heading for Mercala at top speed, eager to let his boss know that Jannia was Emarr Dengas's "love". And if he reached her before they did, this whole operation would be shot through. It had been hard enough to get Ziala to trust her in the first place. She'd have no trouble believing Jannia had betrayed her. In Jannia's experience, people like Ziala considered betrayal the way of the universe. An idea began to stir in the back of Jannia's mind, like a snake uncoiling. Betrayal. Yes, that was something Ziala would understand, even expect. But what if she could convince Ziala that she was not the one Jannia was betraying? Anyone with as much inside information as Ziala seemed to have would know that a romantic and physical relationship between Jannia andanybody, let alone a man she'd long been known for avoiding, was out of character. So out of character that for a moment, Jannia had even toyed with the idea that perhaps Ziala simply wouldn't believe it. I could never be that lucky. Fact. Emarr had been pretty sure Ziala was the one who'd sold Akaril to that Burkeholt character even before Jannia showed up with Lirah in tow. The math hadn't been hard to do. Fact. Given that certainty, it would only have been a matter of time before he went after Ziala on his own. It wasn't outside the realm of plausibility that he might have already set out to do so. Fact. It would certainly have behooved Ziala's right-hand woman to find out what he knew, and what he planned to do about it. She'd had the perfect in with him. Since the events on Advarra, which had already reached legendary status in the business, Emarr's feelings for her had been well known."He held her in his bloody arms. Jannia flippin' Wise.Anybody else she'd have taken his head off the second he touched her. No, really, I'm not kiddin'. I heard it from Ryan O'Hare himself." Smugglers, at least the ones at Beckhaven, were worse gossips than hairdressers. Yeah, Ziala would know Emarr had a thing for her. Hell, she'd evensaid as much. The kind of person she wanted Ziala to believe she was wouldn't hesitate to trade on Emarr's feelings for her. To get close to him. To earn his trust. And to shatter that trust like a clay piñata when he found out what she was really up to. A hard, sour-tasting lump formed in Jannia's throat. It was a solid plan, in the sense that it played on Ziala's own preconceptions about human nature. It was also the worst plan she could possibly have come up with. Hand Emarr over to a woman who'd used him for sex, hurt him for pleasure? How could she, of all people, even think of that? Drag him before her in magni-binders and place him at her mercy, knowing the pain she could inflict on him, the way she could force him to- Oh, God. There was a way to protect him, at least partly, but she cringed away from it, unwilling to face what it said about her, that she would even consider doing such a thing to the man she loved. Caffeine. His reaction to it would protect him from pain, prevent his body from responding to whatever depraved sexual practices Ziala wanted to inflict on him. It would also render him completely and utterly helpless, at the mercy of that same woman. No. I'm not going to drug Emarr! I can't believe I'm even thinking about it. I'm not going to tamper with his body, with his mind. The whole idea's abhorrent. There has to be another way- If there was another way, it eluded her, though she desperately wracked her brain for options. The comm light flashed. Emarr, either wakened by the harsh, painful emotions screaming out from her or not asleep to begin with. Her name issued from the speaker. "Go to sleep, Emarr." She clamped down on the feelings leaking out from her, wrapped them in layers of coolant-line insulation and buried them under a couple tons of ice for good measure. As much as she regretted it after what they'd shared tonight, she couldn't afford to be open to him now. Not planning what she was planning. Not feeling what she was feeling. Because for the sake of their mission, she was going to have to shatter his trust in her utterly. Poison the beautiful, fragile thing growing between them. Prove that O'Hare had been right about her all along. How's that for a goddamn bloody future? CHAPTER 16 ========== Emarr found Jannia the next morning, still sitting in the pilot's chair, staring out at the void. He knew, even before she turned toward him to reveal her dark-shadowed eyes, that she had not slept. He could sense her restlessness, churning inside her like the swirls of raw energy visible in the viewscreen. "Good morning," he said softly. "No more nasty surprises," she informed him in greeting. "I guess Rogai figured one was enough." "It very nearly was," Emarr said. "We are under way again, then." Jannia nodded. "We lost about seven hours altogether. No way to know if that's too long without knowing what kind of ship Rogai's using. I don't think I have to tell you we're going to have some serious damage control on our hands if he reaches Ziala before we do." "If he reaches Ziala before we do," Emarr said, "your cover will be destroyed. I do not think 'damage control' will be possible." Jannia pressed her lips together in a thin, white line. "We can't afford to lose this opportunity. We're not going to get a better one." A thoughtful frown creased her brow, and then she looked away. He reached out, subtly, with his empathic sense, but found her deeper levels closed to him. Some time between last night's soul-shattering intimacy and the cold light of morning, her walls had come up again. He had half expected this, but it still stung him. The intensity of their joining, her anger at him for carelessly endangering her ship and their mission, even his gentle prodding to begin considering her future, had proven too much for her still-healing spirit, and she had retreated deep into herself. Who knew how long it would take him to draw her out again? "Tell me what you are thinking," he said softly. Jannia shook her head. "It doesn't matter. This is a fast ship. We'll get to Mercala in time to head Rogai off, even with the delay. If we don't-well, we'll worry about that when we get to it." Emarr frowned. This was the same Jannia who had risked rape to keep her cover intact? Something was not connecting here. "Jannia..." "I want breakfast." She shot up from her chair and headed for the lounge. He followed her, stood in the lounge doorway while she manipulated the meal processor's controls without looking at them. Now he knew something was wrong. She never ate breakfast without coaxing. "Last night-" he began. "Last night was fine, Emarr. Great. Better than I could have imagined. But we're almost to Mercala now, and we need to focus." She withdrew a dish of something that looked and smelled vile. Emarr frowned. There were still fresh grains and nuts left, though the fruit and cheese were gone. She had programmed the despised space rations by force of habit. Focus, indeed. He took the dish from her unresisting hands and set it aside. "Then let us focus, Jannia. How are we to deal with the possibility of Ziala's learning we are together? How will you convince her she can trust you, when presented with evidence that she cannot?" "I have-ideas," Jannia admitted. "And these ideas would be..." Jannia shook her head. "I'm not prepared to discuss them now. I truly don't expect it to be an issue. This is a fast ship. We'll get there ahead of him." "Jannia, this is ridiculous. We are in this together. We are in this forme , formy people. If you have a plan, I need to know it." Jannia shook her head. "For a man so big on trust, you sure seem to have trouble giving it. Here's a thought. I tell you my plan. Something goes wrong, and Ziala manages to sink her little claws into you. This is a woman you were deeply, physically and empathically intimate with every night for how long? A couple of years? How do youreally know that bond no longer exists? How do you know she wouldn't find a way to make you reveal what I'm up to?" Emarr's throat burned with displeasure. "How can you ask that? I loathe her. There is no such bond. It was broken years ago, shattered utterly. The only such bond I share now is with you. Or would, if you had not shut yourself off again at the first opportunity." "I told you. I need to be able to focus. And I really need you to just trust me, all right?" Emarr said nothing. "Why are you looking at me that way?" Jannia demanded. "Your plan. It is something I would not approve of, is it not?" "Why would you think that?" "I am an empath. It gives me a certain understanding of humanoid nature." "You think it does. You've said yourself you only pick up emotion, not background or motivations. Why don't you try listening to what I tell you instead of trying to second-guess my motives?" "Why do you not present me with some motives that are not so insulting?" Emarr countered. "I don't mean to insult you," Jannia said with what seemed like an honest attempt at gentleness. "Then let me in. Stop hiding your plans from me. Stop hiding yourself from me. Do you know how much it hurts me to be shut out again, after what we shared last night?" "Last night is part of the problem. Before we made love, I didn't really understand. What Ziala had done to you. What you shared. I look at you now, and I-feel things. And I don't know which of those feelings are really mine. You got into my soul last night. I didn't know where I ended and you started. I still don't. I feel-different inside now. I think some of it's you." She looked away quickly, but not before Emarr saw the startled look in her eyes, as though she hadn't realized she felt that way until she heard herself say it. It wounded him. He did not believe it, but just knowing she did made his heart ache. "I used no influence on you, Jannia, beyond what was necessary to ease your fears. I certainly did not imprint you with feelings that were not your own." "How can you be sure of that?" "What is it you feel that you think is not genuine?" She looked away. "What,Jannia?" "I know I felt something for you before. Friendship, attraction, even loyalty. But it just seems strange that the moment I realizedwhat I felt-that it was-" She broke off. What was it about the wordlove that she could not get it past her lips? "So you think I imprinted my own emotions on you? I would not do that. I could not. Love is not just a single emotion, Jannia. It is complex. Different each time it is felt. Different for each heart that feels it. My love is deep, certain, unconditional. Yours is raw and new and fragile. You fear it. That is why you now reject its reality. But it is real, and denying it now will not change that." Jannia met his gaze. "Your love is unconditional. Really. Because from where I'm standing it doesn't look that way. You want something from me. This destiny business. I'm supposed to be the thing that gives your life meaning. That's a big job, Emarr, and I don't remember volunteering for it." "I have wondered about that," Emarr admitted quietly. "If my destiny were not larger and more complex than I had originally thought, and you but one part of it. There is Ziala, and there is Akaril. Kilborne, and the boy. When I first found you, when I learned what had happened to you, it seemed so clear. But I was young then, and still saw things in black and white. So much has happened between then and now." The edges of Jannia's mouth curved faintly upward. "You mean things mightnot be black and white? Emarr, you shock me." Emarr smiled approvingly. "Now that is the Jannia I have come to know." He moved past her to the meal processor, and programmed two servings of cereal. Jannia's ration pack had cooled and congealed into a thick, inedible paste. Jannia accepted her portion with a curt nod of gratitude. "You think you know me." "Better than you have let anyone else know you, at least. Who else is familiar with your sense of humor? Most would say you lack one." He set down his dish and pulled out Jannia's chair for her. "Now you will tell me about this plan of yours." She shook her head. "Nice try, lover, but it's going to have to stay my little secret." To Jannia's intense relief, Emarr did not press the subject. Or at least, she tried to tell herself she was relieved. She couldn't tell him. That was obvious. He'd never trust her again once he realized she was capable of even considering such a thing. He certainly wouldn't be willing to go along with it. What red-blooded man would willingly allow himself to be rendered impotent, even if handing him over to his most bitter enemywasn't also part of the plan? Not that Jannia was too thrilled with that part of the plan herself. Having had what even she in her limited experience knew wasincredible sex with him, the thought of rendering him incapable bordered on sacrilege. The whole plan was a sacrilege. The kind of thing that would see her damned for all eternity, if she actually believed in Hell. She suppressed a grimace. The religious imagery was too big a reminder of how much Emarr had invested in her. What would it do to him to be betrayed by his destiny? * * * Emarr saw little of Jannia over the next few days. The sleepless night she had spent studying the engine control subroutines for evidence of further tampering had thrown her schedule into opposition with his, a state of affairs she appeared in no hurry to change. She slept in her own cabin, and if her sleep were plagued by the old nightmares, Emarr did not sense it. Shields at maximum,he thought, staring out the bridge viewport.This is more than a reaction to an intimacy deeper than she was ready for. She is holding something else back. This plan of hers... A pang of guilt stabbed at him. Well, she was not the only one holding back, was she? This distance she had placed between them gave him too much time to think. And whenever he managed, for even a moment, to stop thinking about Jannia- Akaril. He missed her. It hurt to be away from her, even this long. It would kill him to give her over to the cloisters, no matter how necessary he knew that sacrifice to be. There was something between them, his woman and his child. If anyone had imprinted Jannia with alien feelings, it was Akaril. A lonely child, raised as a rich man's pet, hungry for the love of a family, a mother... It could never be. Emarr simply did not have the skill or the resources to guide and care for her the way she deserved. The way sheneeded . But how in the Gods' names was he going to explain it to Jannia? He knew how she would see it. Abandonment. He would be no different in her eyes than her own father had been. She would never forgive him. * * * "Credit for your thoughts," Jannia said softly. The slight jerk of his shoulders told him she was right. He had been so lost in his own thoughts he had not even sensed her leaning in the doorway behind him. Emarr swiveled around in the pilot's chair and looked at her. "They do me no credit." Jannia frowned. "It's just an old expression. It means, 'What were you thinking about?'" "I know what it means." He got to his feet. "Could you not sleep? Have the dreams returned?" "They never really went away," she said. "But that's not why I couldn't sleep." He took a step toward her. "Do you want..." Something tickled at the back of Jannia's throat. "Don't look so eager, Dengas. It's not dignified." Her pulse raced at the thought of making love with him again, but- "I have missed you," he said simply. "Not only in my arms. With me. By my side. We share this ship, and yet I am alone." Jannia nodded. "You knew this business with me would take patience when you signed on." Emarr grimaced. "You need a few lessons in how lovers speak, my Jannia. I am not some contractor you have hired to overhaul your engines." "No. Just to-how did Vaia used to put it-recharge my power cells." Emarr laughed. It chased the lingering seriousness from his face and brought out the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. His laugh warmed her, and stung her. "I would be pleased to do so," he said. She shook her head. "That's not what was on my mind, though I'm not surprised it's on yours. Don't think I don't understand how frustrating this is for you. I appreciate your patience." "But it is still required." She nodded. "There's something else I need to do." She shivered at the thought. The memory of the table falling, its leg shattering, the clay hawk hitting the floor with a wet, sticky splat. Her hands beating uselessly against Gandes's body, staining his shirt, the clay-slick floor cold and wet against her back... She shoved the memory away, replacing it with the vision that had filled her thoughts as she lay awake, staring unseeing into the corner of her cabin where the sack of clay and tools waited, mocking her. Her own hands, those of a woman now, not a girl. Strong, capable hands. Cool, soft clay sliding over her fingers. Emarr, reclining on her bed, as her hands formed the willing clay into the image of his beautiful, virile body. She had already opened her body and her soul to him. Surely this would be no harder. It might be the last chance she had. After Mercala... "I want to sculpt you. I want..."To have something to remember you by, after you hate me. "What happened to needing to focus?" "I can't." She said simply. "I need to do this." Emarr nodded. "I would be pleased to pose for you." * * * "There is more room to work in the lounge," Emarr pointed out, surveying the small table wedged into one corner of Jannia's cabin, her sculpting materials spread out on its inadequate surface. "There is scarcely room for you to stand." "I want to do it here." Jannia gestured to her bed, still rumpled from her vain attempt at sleep. "I don't just want to reproduce your likeness. I want to capture-" Her voice broke off abruptly. She had been so divorced from her emotions for so long. She lacked the words to voice what she saw in him, what he was to her. What she stood to lose. Emarr sat down on the edge of the bed. "How do you want me?" Jannia's blood heated at his inadvertently suggestive choice of words. Or was it inadvertent? "Are you wearing anything under those pants?" "No." Jannia cursed softly. "I'll go outside while you take them off and cover yourself with the blanket." "What is the point of removing my clothes if I then cover myself?" "Not all of you. Just-certain parts." "Ah." Emarr nodded understanding. "You are still not entirely comfortable with my 'certain parts,' then." "It has nothing to do with that. I'm trying to capture the after, not the before. You know... all loose and relaxed, with the covers all tangled around you." "Then the logical thing to do would be to make love first. Then I could convey that mood more accurately." Jannia's lip twitched. "Nice try." She left the cabin and closed the door behind her. Emarr smiled as he pushed his suede leggings down off his hips. Good. He had half- expected her to accept his proposition as a reprieve from what they were about to do. In some ways, taking up the clay must be even harder for her than making love had been. In bed, she could give herself over to his calming influence, his control. It had taken courage and trust for her to give him that control, to let herself be that passive, that vulnerable. This... this required a whole other kind of courage. There was no way to relinquish control and just let it happen. No other mind could hold for her the image of the clay in its final form. No other hands could guide hers in its shaping, nor still their trembling when the feel of the cool clay on her skin stirred memories better forgotten. All he could do was be here for her, with her, as she did it. And to try his best not to distract her from what she felt she had to do. Emarr stepped out of his pants and draped them over the end of the bunk. It was as well, he thought, that Jannia wished him to cover himself. It would be hard to control his body's response to the sight of her slender hands caressing the clay, molding it into the form of his body. He reclined on the bed, propped up on one elbow, and arranged the blanket over his loins, leaving as much of his belly and legs uncovered as possible. When he had done so, he called her name. Jannia nodded her approval as she entered. She studied him, her gaze moving up and down his body, evaluating every line, every contour, every shadow. Her gaze warmed with appreciation for what she saw. He watched her as she peeled away the wrapping from the first block of clay. Its moist, earthy scent filled the cabin, and a shudder passed through her. Scent. The most powerful trigger of humanoid memory. He reached out with his empathic sense, seeking to breathe courage into her soul, and hit a wall. She might have accepted his help to be intimate with him, but this, apparently, she meant to do on her own. She looked at him, and he could tell she had felt his mental touch. She gave a gentle shake of her head, and began to work the clay into a crude humanoid form. The movement of Jannia's fingers was quick and sure. Only the rigid set of her shoulders gave any sign of the effort this required of her. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked the clay, smoothing, molding, stroking. Coaxing it into the form she wanted. The moist pink tip of her tongue peeked out from between her white teeth. A uniquely Human gesture, one that stirred Emarr's blood. He wanted to kiss her, to feel that tongue sliding against his own. He watched, entranced, as the unliving clay was transformed under her hands into the semblance of life, of flesh over muscle over bone. The mind, the heart, might struggle to move past the memory of pain and fear, but the hands knew their work. They had never forgotten. Strong hands, beautiful hands, coaxing form from formlessness, like the hands of a goddess... "Damn. Stupid, useless... Damn." His goddess threw down her shaping tool in disgust. "This isn't working." Emarr frowned, and looked at what she had created. A male form, reclining, gazing up at someone or something. The features were raw, unfinished. Still, it was a good start. "It is a very good first attempt. It shows much promise." Jannia gave him that look of hers. Thatyou're clearly insane, but that doesn't mean I'll humor you look. "It isn't coming out the way I want. Not only doesn't it capture the mood I'm trying to convey, but it doesn't even look like you." "You have been working a short time," Emarr said. "And you are out of practice. Do not give up so easily." "This used to come so naturally. I mean, not that I was any great talent or anything, but..." "You have made a start," Emarr said. "A good start. You must give yourself time." "Time. Right." Jannia jerked a clay-crusted hand through her sweat-damp hair, leaving streaks behind. "We have so much of that." "Do we not?" "Do I have to remind you that we arrive on Mercala tomorrow?" Emarr leaned back, pillowing his head on one arm. "There is a future beyond Mercala, my love." She said nothing. "You will finish my likeness." Emarr's voice was soft, level, and so firm as to brook no contradiction. "It will be a true image. In form. In spirit. You have it in you to do this. The talent, the strength and the vision. You will do this because you are meant to, because it is part of what you must do to be whole again." He gestured toward the unfinished sculpture on the table. "Do not look at what is yet to be done. Look at what you have already accomplished." He reached out. "Give me your hand, Jannia." After a moment's hesitation, she let him clasp her fingers. He turned her hand over, cradled it, palm up, in his. The clay was still damp on her fingers, but drying into a thin crust on her knuckles and palm. "There is clay on your hands. How does it feel?" "Soft and cool where it's still wet. Tight and stiff where it's drying." He clucked his tongue chidingly. "You know what I mean." "Scary," she said. "And frustrating." "And?" "And-familiar. The smell of the clay, the feel of it, brought back so many memories. Not just the rape..." She had never said the word out loud before. Certainly never in so blunt and straightforward a manner, though she pulled no punches when talking about anything else. Strange how such a simple thing could reveal such a profound change in her. His thumb stroked the ball of her hand. "Tell me about these memories." "They were things I wonder now how I could have forgotten. Like how kind and patient the neighbor who taught me was. How he'd hug me when he saw me, the way my parents never did, and how he smelled. How good it felt the first time something I made reallylooked like I'd pictured it in my head." She shook her head and grimaced. "Not like today." Emarr curled his fingers around hers, lowered their clasped hands into his lap. Her gaze followed them. "And back then-did it take you only a few hours to produce a perfect humanoid likeness?" There was a subtle but definite shift to the position of her lips. "Well-no." "There you go." He reached for her other hand. "You are too hard on yourself. You look at yourself and see only your flaws, only your failures. I wish you would let me show you how you look to me. What you are to me. I..." He sighed, and shook his head. "I would show you with my spirit, but you have closed yours to me. I would show you with words, but words are-" He grimaced. Why did his fluency in Galactic always desert him when he needed it most? "Hollow?" Jannia prompted. "Empty? Not your strong suit?" Emarr chuckled softly. "All of the above. But I can try to show you with my body, if you will let me." "I'm covered in clay," Jannia reminded him. "Yes," he said. "And it looks good on you." He tugged on her fingers, drawing her closer. "I want it onme . From your hands. From your body. I want to make love to you here, now, like this. I want to make a new memory for you, so that when you smell clay, it ismy touch you will remember." She looked down at her clay-crusted hands, and back up at him, and swallowed, and heknew he had gone too far. Asked too much. She must have seen the guilty regret in his eyes, because her own gaze softened. "I want that too. I think it's part of what I need to do." She glanced ruefully down at the bed. "In spite of the fact that it's going to completely ruin the sheets." * * * Jannia's entire digestive system seemed to have formed itself into one giant, tight, painful knot. She sat on the tiny square of bare floor left in her cabin, knees drawn up to her chest, arms hugging them to her as if to derive comfort-as if comfort were even possible. Emarr lay sleeping mere inches from her, his big, wonderful body sprawled across the bed as though he owned it. Not so long ago, the muscled arm dangling over the side of the bed had been draped over her. Protective. Possessive. And so very, so painfully trusting. The cold wall she'd built around her feelings all those years ago had been eroding steadily for some time now-since before Advarra. Since... The thought slipped away, like water through her fingers. Her walls weren't down, not completely. But they'd been weakened, and breached. Breached by him, and there was no going back to the way she'd been. She could put up new walls all she wanted, but they were false walls, nothing like the old ones. She knew this because she could feel the emotions on the other side herself. They would be no barrier to him if he really wanted to look beyond. But she had told him to trust her. And God help them both, he did. He lies naked in my arms, sleeps in my bed while I plot to betray him. To render him helpless and hand him over to a woman who sells little girls for a living and hurts people for fun. And why? The dark room refused to answer her. Because I'm a bloody coward, that's why. I'm afraid to look him in the eye when I shatter all his illusions about me. Afraid to watch the love in his eyes turn to hate. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and laid her cheek against her knees. He'd been so damned sweet tonight. Gentle. Patient. Without his empathic touch to calm her fears, she doubted she'd have been a very exciting lover. Slow to warm, slow to respond. As she'd feared, the scent and feel of the clay kept the memories too close to the surface. Fear. Pain and violation. The certainty that she was going to die, and no one would care. Emarr stirred, mumbled something in Lidaru. His arm disappeared back up onto the bed. He had spoken Lidaru to her as he made love to her. Soft words, meaningless to her yet somehow filled with meaning. His rich voice pitched low, whispering, coaxing, soothing as he stroked her. Kissed her. His voice had cradled her, held her safe in the present. Reminded her in whose arms she lay, whose body enfolded her own. Emarr. The one who loved her. The tears had come unbidden, soaking her face, soaking his chest where she burrowed into him. He hadn't understood. How could he? But he had held her. The stroking of his hands had stilled, and he had held her like a child, not knowing that her heart was breaking. Not knowing why. It would have been so easy, then, just to let her walls crumble, to show him her treachery. Just like that, lying helpless and vulnerable in his arms. And let him do to her what she deserved. Kill her. Or worse. But he wouldn't. He would look at her, those dark eyes full of hurt and hate andthis can't be happening , but he wouldn't harm her. It wasn't in keeping with his stupid destiny. Hell, the idiot would probably see it as some kind of proof thathe'd failedher. She had curled up into a tight ball, and he had wrapped himself around her. Close intimate contact-anyone else, and she would have flinched away. But this was Emarr, and he was different. She knew his touch. His chest, solid against her back, was not threat but shelter. Safety. Protection. He'd stroked her hair, whispered against her throat, told her he loved her. She had closed her eyes tight, hugged his arms to her aching heart, and told him to take her. And he had. Slowly, gently. Rocking, not thrusting. Warmth rose within her, and ebbed, and rose, and ebbed. She found herself rocking in rhythm with the memory. No roaring, crashing peaks this time. Just bittersweet ripples of low-key pleasure, washing through her, over her. And warmth. And pain. And grief. And when he'd finished, he'd kissed her hair, and said he was sorry. Thathe was sorry. She raised her head, and slowly let her legs slide out in front of her. The sculpting table stood in front of the nightstand, obscuring it from view. She'd have to sit on the bed to reach into the drawer. She'd have to be careful not to wake him... Still a coward, even now. She got to her feet, and went to him. Sat carefully down on the edge of the bed, and looked at him. The darkness stripped him of his exotic coloring. He looked Human. Ordinary. Vulnerable. She reached down and opened the nightstand drawer. She reached in, groped around and found what she was looking for. Her eyes were dry, painfully dry, as though she'd wrung out every tear she had in her. But they were clear, now, too. Clearer than they had been in a long time. She laid the little flask of cold tea on the pillow beside Emarr's head and left the cabin. CHAPTER 17 ========== Emarr said nothing as he took the copilot's seat. He simply set the flask on the console between the stations. He did not look at Jannia, nor did he reach out for her with his senses. He would not make this easy for her. She did not deserve easy. She would notbelieve easy. The silence between them had teeth, and he could see in her face how it gnawed at her. Still, she took so long to break it Emarr wondered if she ever would. Finally, it became too much for her. "Aren't you going to ask me what that is?" "I know what it is. I smelled it. Green tea. It was a favorite beverage of Gandes's, was it not?" Jannia shrugged. "I guess it's left over from when this was his ship-after he bought it at auction when it was impounded from Aden Locke, before he swapped with Tami Liori, who traded it back to Aden for the ship that Jack built." Emarr shot her a strange look. "The ship that Jack built?" "Old kids' poem. Lame attempt at inappropriate levity." "I see." He did-the poem in question was in one of Akaril's picture books. The ship in the illustration had not appeared particularly spaceworthy. "Why would you want to brew me some of Gandes's tea, Jannia?" "It was the only thing I could find on board with caffeine in it. I figured I'd slip some into your morningdasu. " "And render me harmless?" Jannia gave a quick, grim nod. "This was your plan, then. The one you did not want to share with me. I see now why." "I didn't do it," Jannia said. To her credit, there was nothing defensive in her voice. It was a simple statement. "Why not?" It was hard for Emarr to keep his tone dispassionate, and he did not know if he succeeded. "Does it matter why not? I was going to betray you. Render you harmless, as you so eloquently put it, and turn you over to the woman who enslaved, used and humiliated you. To save my butt." "I see." Emarr picked the flask back up and tilted it slowly back and forth, watching the flow of the liquid inside. "If all you wished to do was save your butt, as you so colorfully put it, why not simply skip the rendezvous with Ziala? Why would it have been necessary to give me over to her?" "Maybe O'Hare was right about me." He did glance at her then. Her expression was as carefully neutral as his own. And her walls were still very much in place. "Is she?" Jannia's gaze flicked to the flask in Emarr's hand. "You tell me." "No,you tellme, " Emarr insisted. "I have made this too easy for you. I should have pressed you harder to tell me about this plan of yours. But I trusted you. I ask you now, was I wrong?" Jannia stared straight ahead. "You still have to ask me that? You know what I was going to do." "I also know that you did not do it. And I would like to know why not." She said nothing. He put the flask back down. "It was a good plan. A woman like Ziala understands betrayal. Even more, she understands the idea of men as tools, toys, something to be used and then discarded. Yes, you were with me, you do not deny that. But you were only using me. Once used, I can be given away without a second thought. Yes, I believe Ziala could relate to that." Jannia met his gaze. Her features were impassive, but she couldn't hide the pain in her eyes. "I didn't do it." "And I ask you again-why not?" She shrugged one shoulder. "I couldn't. That's all. I didn't have the guts to go through with it." "Aha." He almost slipped, then. Almost let his features betray his emotions. Almost let them slip past his shields. "Because drugging a man's drink requires such courage." She looked away. "If it were only a matter of courage, my Jannia, I doubt we would be speaking now. That is a virtue you do not lack." Jannia grimaced. "Possibly the only one." "Shut your foolish mouth, woman." Jannia's eyes flashed startlement at the bald anger in his voice. "If anyone else were to say such a thing about you, I would tear her heart out." "Funny how O'Hare still seems to have hers." He suppressed a grim smile. Her jealousy was clear evidence of what her aborted betrayal had stood to cost her. "I have torn my Angel's heart out many times, make no mistake about that," he said ruefully. "It keeps growing back." Absently, he touched his chest, his fingers tracing the invisible path of a scar long since erased. "We have much in common, she and I." "You mean she's insane, too?" "I am not the one with so little regard for herself that she cannot accept that a sane man might love her." Her gaze flashed toward him, stunned, like an animal's eyes in the moment when the hunter's spear pierces its heart. "I know that you-" "No, you do not. Not really. Not deep inside you, where it matters. How could you? Your own father left you, and your mother cared only for her chemical comforts. Aden Locke, the first man to whom you offered your wounded heart, rejected you because you were too young. Even the monster who raped you did so only because the true object of his twisted passions was not available. Love you? Want you? Why would I? No one else ever has." Gods, the hurt in her eyes. And in her spirit, as her walls crumbled around her. Pain, crushing, searing pain. It felt- It felt like a child being torn apart by a monster. Hewas the monster, his words its fangs. Piercing her, rending her. He cursed himself for the words even as he knew that they had needed to be spoken. Unloved. Unlovable. Worthless. Useless. Lonely... Can't trust. Trusted before. Hurt every time. He's no different. This proves it. It was raw sensation, raw pain. The words were his, a translation provided by his own mind. Little fool,he sent her.You could have trusted me. You should have trusted me. You think you can trick me into revealing my true feelings? Here they are. He sent her love. Admiration. The memory of amusement at her dry, cool humor. Of a protectiveness so overwhelming that it frightened him, a protectiveness second only to that he felt toward his child. He sent her desire, tinged with the memory of hope and frustration, mingled with a desperate patience. Sweet, tender affection. Friendship. Compassion. And hate, and rage-not for her, but for those who had hurt her. Not just Gandes, but her parents as well.You were their child. Their wonderful, precious, talented child. How could they not love you? Did they not know what you are? What am I? ========== He showed her. What she had hurled at him, unknowing, at the same moment she had hurled the urn that almost ended his life. What she had held so deep inside her, all her life, fearing that no one would ever want it.Jannia. Who she was. All she was. Behind the walls of ice, behind the walls of pain. A soul so beautiful, even broken as it was, that he would give all he was, all he had, to touch it again. To make it whole... He pulled himself back, broke the contact. It had been too abrupt, too intense. He was physically winded, physically drained. Jannia stared up at him. "Youare insane." Her voice was a stunned, disbelieving whisper. But there was understanding there, too. Understanding, and more than a trace of awe. "How can you still feel all that, after what I was going to do?" He reached out with one jade finger, to gently trace a single tear's path down her smooth, alabaster cheek. "You did not do it." * * * They should have made love then. God, Jannia wanted to. The sheer intensity of Emarr's emotional sending had her tingling-mind, spirit, body. Love-raw, pure, unconditional love-had to be the most potent aphrodesiac in existence. She didn't think she'd ever been this... none of the words she knew seemed appropriate. Too crass-or too inadequate. All she knew was that shewanted him. But the timing was wrong. They were due to enter Mercalan space in less than an hour, and the plan that had seemed so logical, so unavoidable before last night was now- "...still the only viable option we have." Emarr frowned over at her. "Jannia, have you heard a word that I've said?" "I was just thinking-" Warmth flooded her cheeks as she realized he must know exactly what she had been thinking. Or at least feeling. "I know. But we must save such thoughts for when we have the time to act on them properly." His warm, tender smile wouldn't have made a dent in her armor a month ago. Now, it almost melted her where she sat. She wondered, though, if she'd be feeling this receptive(Receptive? I want to rip his pants off!) once the relief of his incomprehensible forgiveness and the shock of his emotional revelation had worn off. "You're right, of course," she said reluctantly. "I just wish-" "Good. I had not expected you to agree. Now all we need to do is-" "Hold on. I just agreed that we don't have time for sex right now. I don't even know what else you're talking about." "Your plan," Emarr said. "To betray me to Ziala." "I've abandoned that plan, remember?" "I have not. You were right not to implement it without my consent or cooperation. But it is still a sound plan." "It wasnever a sound plan. It was a stupid, dangerous plan that too many things could go wrong with. Believe me. I spent several hours last night imagining them all in vivid detail. Watching you lying there-when you're awake, you seem so-" her gaze moved over his body. "Strong. Capable. Asleep, it's different. You can't know how it felt, sitting there beside you, with the power in my hands to take away your freedom, your control over your own body-knowing I'd be givingher the same power over you..." She shook her head. "Not only couldn't I do it, I couldn't imagine how I ever considered it for a moment." "You considered it," Emarr said, "because to Ziala, treachery and betrayal are the way of the universe. You would never convince her that you were wholly trustworthy, presented with even a tiny doubt. Convincing her that you were actually betrayingsomeone else..." He chucked softly, appreciatively. "I love your sense of irony." "You have no objectivity at all where I'm concerned, do you?" "None." His wicked smile made her want to kick him. Or kiss him. "I am but your humble slave." Jannia grimaced. "Please don't say that. Not even as a joke. I can't believe I, of all people, was ready to subject you to that. I can't-" "To protect others from that fate," Emarr reminded her. "Others like Lirah. Like Akaril. Never forget them for a moment. I am one man. My fate is nothing when weighed against that of gods know how many others." "It's something to me." "I know. And the knowing warms me. Whatever happens to me, at least I will know I played some part in awakening your heart again." Jannia shook her head at his self-deprecation. "Played a part? Youdid it. Without you-" Emarr shook his head. "It had already begun. When you were ready. When it was time. Even before I held you, even before you went to face Gandes at Aden Locke's side. There was one to whom you had already begun to open yourself." Jannia frowned. The thought had been nagging at the back of her mind for some time now, but it took Emarr's words to bring it to the surface. "Kerra." He nodded. "Yes, I thought it might have been she. A remarkable woman, very perceptive, and with such an open and giving heart. You had closed yourself to me, but you would have been unprepared for her. She-" "She was like a breath of fresh air. Somebody who hadn't known me before, who just saw me the way I was. And liked me anyway." "Without that contact, I do not think you would have been able to make the leap to-this." Emarr gestured at his body, at his bare, perfect chest, the outline of his strong legs beneath the tight suede leggings. Jannia smiled. "I'll have to thank her." "You will have that opportunity soon. When we have dealt with Ziala. You will, of course, need to face Aden again too. Face the feelings about him that were too painful to accept before." She shook her head. "What's the point? I don't blame him. Not anymore." Emarr pressed his lips together and said nothing. "You're the one who blames him," she accused. "What, did you think he should havehumored a fifteen-year-old kid he didn't love?" "He should have dealt more gently with you. At the very least he should not have taken your partner, your protector, to his bed that same night." "This isn't the time to discuss this. We have more immediate concerns. Like how I'm going to get you back once I hand you over. I'll be on my own-you'll be in no condition to provide backup. And I won't have weeks or months to earn Ziala's trust. I'll have days. Just a few days, until sensation returns and she canhurt you again." "That may not be possible. You will have to accept that. Stopping Ziala is of primary importance. Protecting me is secondary. If you must make a choice-" "There's nochoice. Iwill stop Ziala, and Iwill do it without allowing her to hurt you." She fisted her hands in her hair, tugging hard enough to make her scalp ache. "God, Ihate this plan. I can't believe I ever dreamed it up in the first place.Drugging you, of all things. Me, the person who won't even take something for a headache. Rendering you paralyzed, helpless-and to be honest, the impotence thing doesn't thrill me either." It was a necessary part of the plan, since allowing Ziala to use Emarr sexually was out of the question. Still, the thought of stripping his magnificent body of its sexual vitality-it felt wrong. Inconceivable. And, all things considered, more than a little ironic. "Temporaryimpotence." "He said, casually, to his lover." Jannia rolled her eyes. "I can't believe we're even still discussing this. It was a stupid plan. If something goes wrong you're helpless. Paralyzed, empathically numb-" "Do not forget impotent." "Believe me, I haven't. How long does that part last again, anyway?" "About two weeks. Not as long as the empathic dysfunction, but longer than the paralysis. I appear to be of little use in that area without my empathic gifts, anyway." "What gives you that idea?" "Last night. Even with your walls in place, I could tell that you did not-" Jannia tapped a finger against her temple. "There was a lot going on up here last night. And the sex wasn't bad. Just different. Not as intense. It still felt good." "It should have felt better than good." She could almost have laughed at the injured pride in his voice. "Have you heard me complain? This is me. Miss Cringes-at-a-Handshake. If sex with you felt good, you're obviously doingsomething right." "I want to do more." She shook her head. "I don't understand you. I'm gratified that you still care for me after what I meant to do, but-I just don't understand you." He reached for her hand, dropped a gentle kiss on her fingers. "Few do." * * * "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Jannia leaned over Emarr's shoulder, watching his attempt to access the Port Authority computers from theIce Dagger 's console. "I learned a great deal last year from observing the Maiden-" "Kerra," Jannia corrected. "It's not exactly appropriate to call her a maiden now that she's married." "Kerra, then. I learned a lot from her about using port records to locate a specific ship or- -there. I am in." He grinned boyishly at her over his shoulder. "And in some circles I am called a savage." "And in others you're called a smug bastard." She leaned over his shoulder, watching as he slowly scrolled down the long columns of information. "It would help if we knew the names of Ziala's and Rogai's ships." "I do not need a name to find Ziala's. I know her. It should be a simple matter to deduce-Aha." He jabbed a finger at the screen. "There. An Orion Eclipse MT369 light long-range freighter, two private cabins plus crew quarters. Shiny, new and state-of-the-art. Bekanar registry, ship nameFringe Benefits. That will be Ziala's." "How do you know?" "It is the best working ship money can buy, and Ziala would never settle for less. Also, it is the kind of name she would choose. Arrival time corresponds to the beginning of the time- window she gave you for meeting her here. Does this satisfy you?" Jannia nodded. "So you can keep watch on it in your Human disguise if you don't have to-" She froze, then cursed as a ship name jumped out at her: WISE'S GIFT.SETTLAN REGISTRY. CAPTAIN/OWNER: AZARAN ROGAI. ========================================================== "That bastard. That raping, thieving, snuff-running bastard. Henamed his ship after me!" A bitter taste flooded her mouth. So much for any hope she might have had that drugging Emarr might not be necessary. "He will pay for that," Emarr vowed darkly. "Among other things." "I wish we hadn't needed O'Hare for other things. We could have used her to watch Ziala's ship, now that you'll be otherwise occupied." "Perhaps we can recruit someone else. I will check if there is anyone from Beckhaven here." Jannia frowned. "Not much chance, though. Most of what passes through here is against the charter-" Emarr, who'd already started scrolling through the manifest again, sat bolt upright and stared at the screen. "That is an interesting development-" "What?" Jannia stared down at the screen, not seeing anything, at first, and then-"Oh." She knew that ship, having spent most of her career avoiding it. A larger ship than most smugglers used-a medium long-range freighter, four private cabins.Viridian. Ryan O'Hare's ship. Jannia plopped down into the seat beside Emarr. "Great. This is what I get for wishing for backup." Emarr frowned over at her. "He is not that bad, Jannia." "He left you for dead on Kethry. You. His partner." "And before that he emancipated me from slavery," Emarr reminded her. "That was his sister's idea. If it had been up to him you'd probably still be Ziala's little plaything." A thought occurred to her. "She sent him here. Merilee. She sent him here to keep an eye on us because she still doesn't trust me-" "Do not be ridiculous, Jannia. Ryan was not on Crossroads Station when we were there. He could not possibly have been sent. His presence is a fortunate coincidence, nothing more." Jannia snorted. "That's your Jannia-friendly way of telling me you think it's divine intervention at work." Emarr shrugged. "Does why matter? He is here, and we do need someone to watch Ziala's ship." He reached for the comm switch without bothering to wait for Jannia's permission. "Hello, Master." Jannia grimaced. She'd never understand why Emarr persisted in using that title for the man who hadfreed him from slavery. And he thoughtshe had a taste for irony. The grimace was also at least partly for her extreme distaste for the man himself. Ryan was everything people said Jannia was-a cold, self-serving, every-being-for-himself bastard. He'd outlived four partners, running out on two of them to save his own neck-plus a third, who'd managed to survive anyway by sheer dumb luck. His own sister hadn't been able to tolerate working with him.He was their best chance for backup? They were doomed. Not to mention the fact thatZiala knew him. If she realized he was here at the same time they were, there'd be was no way to convince her it was a coincidence. If it even was one. If she found out Merileehad sent him, she'd cheerfully wring the woman's neck. "Emarr! What are you doing here?" Ryan's voice startled Jannia out of her musings as his face filled the comm screen. He was a Human male in his late thirties, with sandy blond hair and a boyish face that seemed to light up with genuine happiness at the sound of his ex-partner's voice. Genuine, my ass,Jannia thought. O'Hare's sparkling green eyes and charming smile hid the soul of a shark. A shark who'd swum on his merry way and left the man Jannia loved to a watery grave- You weren't in love with Emarr yet, and he didn't actually die- Why did the nagging voice of reason in the back of Jannia's head sound like Kerra? "I am hunting, Master," Emarr said. "Hunting." Ryan quirked a brow. "Emarr Dengas, on Mercala, hunting. Who are you hunting, and what do you plan to do when you've caught them?" "I am hunting Ziala." "I see." Ryan leaned back, away from the camera. "I don't think I need to hear the rest of your answer." His gaze shifted then, as if he'd only now noticed Emarr wasn't alone. "What's Wise doing with you?" "Jannia is assisting me." "I see," Ryan repeated. "This a social call, Emarr? Because I have a client coming over in just a few-" "We have need of a favor, Master." Ryan cursed. He wasn't, Jannia noted, very creative, but he got his point across. "This isn't a good time-" he began. "Why does that not surprise me?" Jannia cut in. Emarr touched her arm, glanced at her with a pained shake of his head. "Jannia, please." Ryan leaned forward again, his face almost filling the screen."Jannia, is it?" Wonderful. He's picked up on the name thing.She shot Emarr a dark look. He reached out, unrepentantly, to stroke the back of her neck with his strong, gentle fingers. "It is Jannia," he confirmed in a voice so tender she almost forgave him the possessive gesture. "None other." There was a promise in his words that was not meant for Ryan O'Hare's ears. "Well, I'll be. Does Meri know? I don't see any claw marks on Wise-" "I heal fast," Jannia cut in. "Now shut up and listen." She updated him quickly on the plan, and his proposed role in it. "And for God's sake don't let her see you if she hasn't already. Thank God your ship and hers are in different hangars. Keep your mobile comm on you at all times, because we may need you to act fast." "Hang on. When did I agree to this?" "Just now," Emarr said. "Or Jannia will be forced to prove her loyalty by giving you away, as well. Ziala never did take kindly to being cheated-" "You're an ungrateful bastard, you know that, Dengas?" Emarr actually looked chagrined. It pissed Jannia off. "Don't talk to Emarr about gratitude, Ryan. Not after Kethry. He'd never have left you behind. Never." "You think I don't regret that? You think I wouldn't have gone back for him if I'd known he was still alive?" "Jannia has abandonment issues," Emarr said. "I cannot guarantee she will not do someting drastic if you will not help us, and something happens to me." "Moredrastic than setting McGann on me?" Ryan sighed, and shook his head. "Okay. I'm in. Not that your threats intimidate me, but seeing Jannia Wise in full-blown don't- mess-with-my-man mode-greatest show in the quadrant. Wouldn't want to miss the next act." He terminated the connection. "Bastard," Jannia growled. "Easy, love. He has agreed to help." "I meant you. 'Jannia has abandonment issues'? What business are my 'issues' of his?" "It was a tactic, love. You intimidate him more than I do." "So you've got no abandonment issues of your own? You severed your partnership with Ryan after Kethry, and now everything's all right?" "Jannia," Emarr said with a sigh, "I did not end my business relationship with Ryan because of Kethry." "You didn't? But the timing-" "I ended it because ofAdvarra, my love. Because I dared hope, with Gandes dead, you might finally be ready to heal, to move on. That a partnership withyou might be possible. One that was more than merely business. It was a matter of timing, not of blame." "Oh." She was silent for a moment, then she scowled at him again. "You still had no business telling O'Hare I have abandonment issues." "Well, you do. And Ryan has self-preservation issues, which mesh nicely." "What happened to therapist-client confidentiality?" Emarr flashed her his best smug-bastard grin. "I am your lover, not your therapist." * * * "One good thing about having your cooperation is that I don't have to wrestle you into the cargo pod myself." Jannia hunkered down next to Emarr, who was busy squeezing himself into what would have been a man-sized container if he were a smaller man. "You're a big boy." "The results of a proper, nourishing diet." "Right." Jannia rolled her eyes. At a time like this, he still managed to get in a dig about her eating habits. "Well, time to consume something bad for you for a change." She picked up the flask of tea and removed the cap. "I don't know how good this stuff is." "Its purpose is to drug me, not to whet my appetite." Emarr took the flask from her hand and recapped it. "Jannia-" She met his gaze. "If something goes wrong, get yourself out. Do not risk yourself for me. The girls-Akaril, and Lirah. If anything happens to me, I look to you to take care of them." "Emarr-" "Promise me." "I promise." Promises were cheap. She'd learned that from her parents. Damned if she was going to leave him in Ziala's clutches while she lived. She cared for the girls, sure, and wanted to see them done right by. But in Jannia's book, doing right by Akaril included bringing her father safely home. Emarr's eyes narrowed. "Promise and mean it." Jannia grimaced. The guy was too damned perceptive. "The girls are in good hands with O'Hare. Though if you ever tell her I said that, I'll deny it. Violently." Emarr shook his head. "She does not understand. Akaril needs solitude. Isolation. She must be-" His mouth snapped closed, shutting off whatever he'd been going to say. "She must bewhat , Emarr?" Silence. "Damn it, I need to know! You can't tell me I have to be the one to take care of her, and not tell me what you think she needs. How can I-" Emarr gazed at her, silently, then shook his head. "It matters not. If this goes wrong, I suppose it will not be possible." He reached out and curled his fingers around hers. "The little one is better off with you. You keep to yourself-" Jannia leaned forward and kissed Emarr, hard. Silenced him. Distracted him. He wrapped his arms round her, pulling her as close against his body as the shipping pod allowed. His mouth suckled hers, nibbled, stroked. His warmth filled her, stroking the edges of her spirit with love, desire, admiration. She wanted to kiss him forever. She wanted to do what he asked of her... She jerked back and glared at him, throwing her anger at him like a fistful of stones. "If you ever try that again, I'll have your hide for boot leather." "This is important." "So are you." She kissed him again, but this time she was careful to keep her shields up. "Let's not waste any more time arguing. I have a star system to pilot us into." She took the flask from his hand, uncapped it, and handed it back. Emarr's gaze met Jannia's as his fingers closed over hers. "I love you," he said. He raised the flask to his lips without letting her pull her hand away, and before he drank, he kissed her fingers tenderly. "Remember that, in case I do not get to say it again." He tipped back the flask and drank deeply before she had a chance to answer. Jannia held Emarr close in her arms as his strong male body seemed to wilt, like a dying flower, his limp weight heavy in her arms, against her chest. "You'd damn well better say it again," she whispered huskily as she lowered him into the pod. * * * As on Miakar, Ziala had opted for the most opulent hotel available-one too far from the spaceport for Jannia's convenience, and with enough overdeveloped native males in private security uniforms to make her distinctly uncomfortable. The suite Ziala had reserved was, of course, not accessible via the public elevators. Jannia had to wait while the concierge called up to the room for clearance to admit her to the suite's private lift. The lift disgorged her into a reception area paneled in rich polished wood. Ziala's musclebound Emarr-caricature awaited her there, silent and inscrutable as before. "Hi, Dumal. Miss me?" No answer, of course. No verbal answer, at any rate. He took a step toward her, hands outstretched. "Don't even think about touching me." He pointed to her hip, where her blaster rested under cover of her duster, and extended a hand. She shook her head. He took a step closer, a determined look in his eyes. They hadn't made her hand over her weapons before. She gave him the gun. He shoved it through his belt, and extended his hand again. She rolled her eyes, and handed him her holdout weapon. He extended his hand again. "That's it, fancy-pants. Just the two." He frowned, and gestured for her to turn around. A chill rippled down her back. She wanted to resist him, to fight him. Anything to escape having him touch her. For Emarr.She turned around, and gritted her teeth as Dumal patted her down. He was thorough. Invasive. Panic welled up inside her, its coldness an old familiar companion. She refused to give in to it. Respect. Approval. Satisfaction.The emotions effortlessly breached the mental shields that kept Emarr out so well. Jannia struggled to suppress her unease. This guy was a damn strong empath. Stronger than Akaril. Too strong. He could coerce me without breaking a sweat. There's no way I'd be able to resist him.The thought chilled her. He stepped back, and she turned to face him. "Don't touch me again." Words. Inadequate, useless. He could do anything to her. Anything he wanted. His only response was a beckoning gesture. The corridor down which Dumal escorted Jannia was lined with the mounted heads of once-living beings. As this hotel catered to offworlders, none were obviously humanoid, but Jannia thought she recognized a muzzled species whose claim to sentience had been good enough to satisfy Vaia. The corridor gave way to a stone-walled room decorated in fur rugs and overstuffed chairs upholstered in exotic-looking leathers. Jannia made a mental note to herself not to sit down. Dead things. The room was full of dead things. A chill rippled through her. One the blazing fire in the massive stone hearth along one wall did nothing to dispel. Shields up,she reminded herself, suppressing her reaction-for all the good it was likely to do her. The strength of Dumal's empathic abilities frightened her. As did the implications of his revealing them now. Emarr had been brutally clear about the hold Ziala had had on him, and Jannia had no reason to believe her hold on Dumal was any weaker. She couldn't count on him as an ally-couldn't count on the allure of freedom being stronger than the allure of- Jannia shuddered. Dumal gestured to a chair by the fire, his meaning clear. She shook her head. If he found that refusal in any way remarkable, it did not show on his face. He left through a door on the opposite side of the room, leaving Jannia alone with the dead furniture. She wasn't alone long. The door Dumal had passed through opened, and Ziala emerged, tying a robe of embroidered emerald green silk closed around her. Her hair was tousled and damp, its fiery color water-darkened to the ember shade of a Kethrian's. Dumal followed her, two steps behind, and stopped in the doorway. The weapons he had taken from Jannia were no longer in evidence. "I wondered if I would see you again." Just that, no greeting, no preamble. No hint on Ziala's face or in her voice of what might lie behind the words. Dumal's treatment of her didn't bode well, though. "Why wouldn't you?" Ziala's answer wasn't one. "How did the delivery go? Was Kilborne pleased with the merchandise?" The merchandise? Her name isLirah,bitch."Disgustingly so." Jannia let a sneer twist her mouth as she pulled the credit chip out of her pocket and handed it over. Ziala tossed the chip in her hand. "Anything else to report, Wise?" Come on, McGann, quit playing with me. We both know what Rogai saw. Unless...Was it possible he was still hoping for another shot at blackmail? No straw-grasping. Just take him out."Your Amardel can't be trusted." Ziala smiled coldly. "Of course not. The question is, can you?" She raised her hand in a beckoning gesture. Dumal stepped forward. Jannia forced herself not to look in his direction. "Bring out our other guest." Ziala slid her lithe body into one of the leather chairs with the liquid grace of a shark. "And some refreshments." Dumal bowed formally to his mistress, then graced Jannia with an equally formal but much less subservient nod. He left the room. "You don't look nervous," Ziala commented when her servant had gone. "You should, you know. You must have some idea of the fascinating story our Amardel friend had to tell me when he arrived." Jannia shrugged. "I have an idea what his version of things probably was, yeah." She moved toward a chair and started to sit, then remembered where she was. She perched a hip on the side of a low wooden table instead. A knowing, mocking smirk curled the corner of Ziala's mouth. "Let's just say he reinforced a few of my doubts about you." Dumal returned, escorting the Amardel. Rogai's terracotta skin was flushed a deeper shade of red, and his hair was damp. His robe was identical to Ziala's. Dumal gripped the other man's arm harder than was probably necessary, and shoved him into the room so hard he stumbled and fell hard against the back of Ziala's chair. Jannia winced in inadvertent sympathy. Dumal turned and vanished back down the corridor, presumably to get the requested refreshments. Rogai straightened and fixed Jannia with a look of pure hostility. "I'm surprised you had the nerve to show your face here," he began, taking a step toward her. "After the way you betrayed our employer here-after what you did to me-" Ziala raised a staying hand. "Shut up, Azaran." She leaned back in her chair and drew her knees up, crossing one leg over the other. "Captain Wise has a great deal of explaining to do. I suggest we let her do it. It should be entertaining." "Probably not as entertaining as whatever fiction Rogai's concocted about me," Jannia said. "You can't deny you offered me your services in exchange for keeping silent," Rogai said. "Offered?" Jannia raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you have the definition of that word quite right. You may need a refresher course in Galactic." "Then you don't deny that Rogai saw you with Emarr Dengas on Norhei," Ziala said. "That Dengas spoke to you as a lover would, and you did not appear to object. That you attempted to bribe Rogai, with money and sexual favors, not to tell me what he had seen. And when that didn't work, you tried to drug him." Dumal returned with a tray containing an assortment of drinks. He offered it to Jannia first. She shook her head, but he only frowned, and all but shoved the tray into her face. Challenge. Amusement. Something else... She selected something that looked and smelled like cider, and sipped it. Too strong. She set it aside. He offered the tray to Ziala then, and she chose a slender glass of something opaque and purple. He didn't offer the tray to Rogai. He simply set it down on the table at Jannia's side. When Rogai moved to reach for a glass, Dumal's body blocked him. Ziala watched the interplay between the two men with amusement glittering in her eyes. "Take something for yourself, Dumal, and clear the way. I'd think you'd have learned to share by now." Displeasure flashed in Dumal's eyes as he reached for a drink and backed away. Displeasure he didn't bother to send Jannia's way. She found herself wondering if it was real. Rogai snatched something off the tray without looking and then grimaced when he tasted it. "Now," said Ziala, "where were we?" "We were discussing Captain Wise's shameful attempt to bribe me," Rogai prompted, setting his own drink down beside Jannia's. Jannia laughed coldly. "A bribe. Of course. Silly me, I thought it was blackmail and attempted rape. No, wait. It was." She glared at Rogai. "As if putting up with that arrogant green savage hadn't been enough. I was trying to do you a favor, but your Amardel henchmoron here almost ruined everything." Ziala ran a perfectly manicured finger along the rim of her glass. "Consorting with the one person in the galaxy with a personal reason to want me shut down-a person whose notice I have been trying to avoid. In what way do you see this as a favor?" "You haven't avoided his notice," Jannia said. "He discovered some of your merchandise-a small girl that you'd sold to a private menagerie on Doravi." Was it Jannia's imagination, or did Dumal stiffen, almost imperceptibly, at her words? She was careful not to look at him, not to draw attention to that reaction, in case Ziala hadn't noticed. "I remember her," Ziala said. "No control over her talents, or her bladder. And very sharp teeth. Her buyer had this shapeshifter..." Her voice trailed off into a wistful sigh. "Which was probably killed in the fire that destroyed his estate. That was how Dengas found the kid. The hospital where she was being treated sent out a public announcement looking for anyone who might be a tissue match." "Did she survive?" Ziala looked startled for a moment, as if she hadn't been expecting to ask the question. She shot Dumal a hard, warning look which Jannia pretended not to have seen. "Yeah, she survived. And her new daddy's making it his life's work to take down the person who sold her. It didn't take him long to put the pieces together. He's been looking for you. Asking questions. I tried to get close to him, to find out how much he knew. Then Rogai saw us together, jumped to the wrong conclusions, and showed his true colors by offering to keep silence in exchange for money and sex. I couldn't afford to let Dengas see us together. He's already linked Rogai to you. He's learned more than I feared, and in a shorter time. Rogai's clumsiness almost cost me his trust." She didn't have to pretend. The rage in her voice came as naturally as blinking. "I'd have had him. What he knew. Who he'd told. And I'd have managed it without having to-" Her voice cracked. Perfect. Let them think it was for the way she'd let Emarr touch her. "I didn't think I'd ever get the smell of him off me." Ziala leaned forward in her seat, her gaze cold and narrow. "You've had sex with him." "I wasn't left much choice. It was the only thing that would convince him I was really with him for the reasons I'd said. I'd been putting him off-" "Didn't look that way to me," Rogai cut in. "Shut up and go away." Ziala set her drink aside and got to her feet. "It's your word against Rogai's, Captain Wise. One of you is going to have to offer me more than words." Her gaze was locked firmly on Jannia's now, the challenge in her dark eyes plain. For all the attention she paid to Rogai, he may as well not have been in the room. He seemed to realize this himself, because he backed away quickly, making himself swiftly scarce before she had time to notice him again. Of course, Jannia thought. It was she who had to earn back Ziala's trust-because Rogai had never had it in the first place. He was good enough to recruit for her. Good enough to warm her bed, to torment Dumal with the knowledge of how little he really meant to her. But in the end, he was just a tool to be used and, if necessary, discarded. Jannia was the only one Zialaneeded to be able to trust. The only one whose treachery would actually matter. Because she was the one who would have direct contact with the buyers-and the merchandise. "I thought you might say that. How does the return of some lost property sound? Emarr Dengas was your first, right? He must have some sentimental value." "You brought him with you?" "Yeah. He thought I was coming here to help him shut you down." She grinned wickedly. Hell, why not use the truth? "Go to my ship. It's docked in hangar 17, berth 34-B. You'll find a cargo pod in the main corridor, just off the boarding ramp. Dengas is inside." Ziala laughed softly. Coldly. "Of course you expect me to proceed immediately to your ship to collect this little gift you've brought me. Interesting that you didn't bring him here yourself. Just what will I find waiting for me?" "Nothing more or less than what I've told you," Jannia said. "I've gone to a good deal of trouble and discomfort for the sake of this enterprise of yours. All I ask is a little trust in return. I knew Rogai had a head start, and a strong motive for discrediting me. He'd love a place in your organization a little more lucrative than recruiter. I knew what he'd seen, what it looked like, and that he'd milk it for all it was worth. I came back anyway. That should mean something." "Oh, I'm certain it does," Ziala said. "My concern is that it means you believe I'm a gullible fool." She glanced at Dumal. "Well? Make yourself useful. Is she playing me for an idiot or not?" CHAPTER 18 ========== Part of Jannia half-expected Dumal to break silence-whether to defend or condemn, she couldn't have said. Instead he simply looked at her, his dark eyes cool and unreadable. She returned his regard with level, unblinking eyes and tried to think trustworthy thoughts. Dumal broke eye contact first. He looked over at Ziala and nodded. Ziala frowned. "You have a guilty conscience aboutsomething. And if I interpret Dumal's sending correctly, you're afraid. The possibility you've permanently lost my trust frightens you-and it wasn't unexpected." "News flash. Everyone has a guilty conscience, except those people who don't have one at all. As to my worries about you not trusting me, they prove nothing. You've never really trusted me. I've known that from the beginning." "Trust is a weakness I can't afford. But I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment. It would be a shame to have to kill two associates in one day." Ziala unfolded herself from the chaise. "I'll send someone from the hotel to collect my package. If you have some sort of ambush planned I'll know soon enough." She gestured to Dumal. "Take her to the, ah..." Ziala hesitated a moment, as if uncertain of the most appropriate term for Jannia's destination. "The guest quarters." The big empath's fingers wrapped around Jannia's arm. His grip was firm, but not tight, as he guided her from the room. Not like the hand of fear that clutched at her insides at his touch. Fear that ebbed as his mind stroked hers. Calming... Stop it! ======== He retreated from her mind, but without a trace of apology for the intrusion. His fingers dug into her arm, replacing his empathic influence with physical force as he propelled her along.Whose side is he on? He stopped, opened a door, and shoved her inside what must once have been a richly furnished room. She didn't resist. Once Ziala had evidence that she'd spoken the truth... The door slid closed behind her with Dumal on the other side. Jannia rubbed at her bruised arm and took stock of her surroundings. It was a double bedroom, its wide windows barred with intricate metalwork. Unlike Lirah's room, it still had covers on the beds, and pillows. Perhaps the occupants of this room were more docile prisoners than Lirah had been. Jannia turned her attention toward those occupants-potential allies, or potential liabilities. Which remained to be seen. There were three of them, all Lidaru. A woman about the same age as O'Hare, hugging her knees on the floor beside the window-side bed, a pair of magni-binders just like Lirah's locking her wrists together. Two boys, also bound, making Jannia feel oddly guilty that she was not. One just past puberty, glaring out the window, who turned away to glare at Jannia instead. The other a few years younger, with the stamp of the woman's genes on his young face, looked up at Jannia almost hopefully from the room's single chair. Jannia managed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. The older boy spat in the general direction of Jannia's feet. The woman looked at him with warm, pleading eyes and spoke in a soothing tone. He turned his face away. Waves of hostility washed out from him, battering at Jannia's shields. It made her head throb. He was no Dumal, and no Akaril, but what he lacked in power he made up for in sheer lack of control. Three this time. Ziala had said she was trying to keep her operation small and discreet. Jannia wondered now just how strong the slaver's commitment to that strategy was. She'd already expanded a little if she needed others to deliver for her now. Was greed overriding her caution? Jannia could work with that. There was a prime market available, a market she doubted Ziala would have exploited yet. Kethrians tended to prefer quantity over quality, and as a race they were more than a little xenophobic. Certain individuals, however, were more broad- minded... The older boy'd fetch a nice price there. So would Emarr. Though I doubt she'll trust me so far as to hand him right back over to me. Jannia wondered what the chances were that Ziala would let the younger boy stay with his mother. Low, she surmised. They'd appeal to very different sorts of customers. I won't let her separate you,she promised them silently. Though she didn't dare let her shields down, to let them glimpse the sense behind her thoughts. Wouldn't have dared even without the older boy's angry broadcast echoing in her skull. The woman spoke to the boy again, and this time she refused to be shaken off. She spoke sharply, sternly. The voice of authority. The boy muttered something sullenly under his breath, but wrestled some sort of shield into place. Jannia could still feel his hostility, but at least it was no longer giving her a headache. "Thanks," she said. The woman managed a weak smile."Ta nasca." She gestured awkwardly at her chest with her shackled hands. "Aniyn." Then to her son. "Jussel." And the other boy. "Nikar." Jannia nodded acknowledgement and responded in kind. "Jannia." "Jannia," Aniyn repeated, then made a sweeping gesture that seemed to encompass the boys."Nor malip kalna? " Jannia frowned for a moment, then remembered. It would be bad manners for the boys to call her by her real name. Only a husband or lover had that right. They needed something else to call her. The only name that came to mind was what Emarr used to call her. She'd finally got him to stop, and she wasn't going to let these kids start. She inclined her head toward Jussel, indicating that he could name her, if he liked. Nikar muttered something rude-sounding under his breath, something sufficiently rude to earn him a sharp whack across the shins from Aniyn's binders. Jussel managed a shy smile."Kinrai." Jannia nodded approval. It had a nice sound. She wouldn't mind being called Kinrai for a little while. Nikar snickered. With the introductions out of the way, and further conversation problematic at best, Jannia moved past Nikar to gaze out the window. The room had an excellent view of the plaza outside. Clean, lined with trees and troughs of flowers, crowded with well-dressed humanoids. No one looked up. Nikar said something sarcastic-sounding. Jannia ignored him, and just stood there, watching. She didn't have long to wait. Ziala must have had a porter dispatched from the hotel the moment Jannia was out of her sight. The cargo pod looked so small from up here. She winced at the thought of how stiff and sore Emarr would be when they let him out-then she remembered that he wouldn't be sore or stiff at all. He would feel nothing. The thought was anything but comforting. The pod was brought inside the hotel. Jannia turned away from the window to see her fellow prisoners' eyes turned questioningly in her direction. She had no answer. Hell, she didn't even know the question. * * * It was a strange sensation, knowing his body was there, but feeling nothing. Emarr's heart beat, and he breathed. He knew this, because the interior of the cargo pod bore no resemblance to the realm of the gods, either in his own religion or any other he had studied. But he could feel neither the pounding of his heart nor the rising and falling of his lungs. He was stuffed, as planned, into a space so short and narrow his limbs had to be folded in awkwardly, and the lid forced closed with all of Jannia's weight behind it. It should have hurt. Eerie that it did not. He knew, intellectually, that consciousness had returned. But he did not feel conscious. The awareness that had been part of him since early adolescence, the feel of other minds, other spirits moving, out there, beyond the place where he lay, was missing. There were always other minds, even if it were only one-Akaril, or Jannia, or a passenger taken on just to have another mind somewhere on the ship. Even when Jannia had been closing her mind to him, she had not been completely-gone. He was blind, and the universe was empty. He had forgotten how much he hated that feeling. The pod was moving-he was aware of that much. His sense of balance, of motion, was intact, but without physical awareness of his body it was a strange and disturbing experience. He was aware when the pod stopped moving, abruptly, and of the soft scrape of metal on-something-when it was set down. "What do you have in here, anyway-rocks?" a voice grumbled. "I expect a hefty tip for this." "I'm sure we can work something out." The voice was low, husky and gut-wrenchingly familiar. Memories flooded him-memories of fear, and pain, and need. His mind remembered, and was glad his body could not. "For now, go. This package must be opened in private." Footsteps, muffled as though by thick carpet, moved away. "Well," Ziala's voice said, "it didn't blow up the porter." There was no answer from whomever she spoke to. Dumal, her silent bedslave and bodyguard, Emarr surmised. The man who had taken his place. Emarr was gratified to realize he felt nothing but pity. Regardless of what he had told Jannia, a part of him had feared he would be jealous. That part of him still- "Well, what are you waiting for, Dumal?" Ziala's voice was sharp and impatient. "Open it. I'll beway over here." There was a sharp clicking sound as the seals on the pod's cover were released, then the cover itself was lifted away. Light, bright light, assaulted Emarr's eyes, stinging them, blinding them. He could not close his eyes to shut it out, nor feel the tears that welled up, blurring what remained of his vision, nor blink to help clear them away. "Our friend isn't proving very entertaining, is she?" Ziala's voice sounded almost disappointed now. A bright blur the color of fire moved toward Emarr, hovered over him a moment, then moved down, closer. A blur the size and color of a woman's hand moved toward his face, close. So close it must be touching him, but he could not feel it. "Emarr." Emotion roughened Ziala's voice, but without his empathic gifts, Emarr could not identify which emotion. His eyes, now clear of tears but still struggling to adjust to the light, could not clearly see her face. "Emarr," she repeated, and this time the emotion in her voice came through more clearly. She was not pleased. She touched his face again, and her voice was a low angry whisper. "What has she done?" Emarr's heart must have missed a beat at her words. He, of course, could not feel it. Ziala turned, and for the first time Emarr took notice of the male figure, his match in size and coloring, looming just past Ziala's shoulder. "Bring Captain Wise here." The man moved off, and there was the sound of a door opening and closing. Ziala turned her attention back to Emarr. He could see her almost clearly now. Nine years had not dulled her sensual beauty, or the cool cruelty of her gaze. Her hand moved near his face-again, close enough that shemustbe touching him. "Can't feel that, can you? I'm pinching you so hard the bruise will glow like a nebula. What did she give you, Emarr? A little cocoa powder stirred into your porridge?" He did not answer, of course. Could not have done so if he had wanted to. She leaned closer, reached out to move her hands over his body. Touching. Pinching again, he imagined. He felt none of it. She frowned. Pouted. "No fun." Her gaze flicked back to his face, and when she spoke again, her voice was all business. "I wonder how long ago she gave it to you. Well, at worst you'll be able to feel again in a few days. In the meantime-" She glanced in the direction Dumal had gone. Footsteps sounded, moving closer. The door slid open, and Jannia stumbled abruptly into view, as if shoved toward the pod. Emarr's gaze flicked toward her-as much as it could, when the only parts of him he could move were his eyes. Dumal gripped her arm so hard the skin around his fingers dented inward-hard enough to bruise. Emarr could see, in his mind's eye, how the bruise would look, four dark finger-marks marring her milk-white skin. Anger flooded him-anger, and a sense of helplessness more terrible than anything he had ever known. They could kill her, or worse. Right here, right in front of his face, and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. She spared Emarr only a passing glance before turning her attention to Ziala. "Call off your dog, McGann. You can see I told you the truth." "I can see you've brought him here, yes, all packaged up for easy delivery. I can also see you've rendered him temporarily useless. I can't help wondering what your motives for that might be." "My motives?" Emarr recognized that tone in Jannia's voice-the subtle, tonal implication that the other speaker was not entirely right in the head. "I used the only thing I had any way of knowing would work. The alternative was bashing him over the head with something and hoping it didn't leave him brain damaged." "And just how did you come by the knowledge thatcaffeine, which is nothing but a mild stimulant to virtually all other humanoids, would have this effect on him? I doubt a smuggler of his reputation goes around advertising his weaknesses." "We have mutual friends, remember? Ryan O'Hare tends to run off at the mouth when he's drunk. He was drunk at Aden Locke's wedding. Told the whole story in vivid, sordid andloud detail to a waiter who offered Dengas a rum and cola." "Story." Ziala's voice dripped skepticism. "Dengas discovered caffeine's effect on him while he was still with me. I highly doubt he would have told all the details to the man whose sister he was screwing." "You have your facts wrong," Jannia asserted. "Dengas never slept with Merilee O'Hare." "Or so he told you." Jannia simply shrugged, as though that detail was of no importance. "It happened to him again a few years ago, apparently. Kylie Dawson served him some kind of fruit drink and he didn't know it had caffeine until too late. Why does this matter? I brought him here. Drugged. Helpless. I've turned him over to you. That should be proof enough that I'm not working with him." "I'll decide what's proof enough, thank you." Ziala gestured toward Emarr's inert form in the pod. "Yes, you turn him over to me, but in what condition? Useless. Even when the paralysis wears off, he'll be impotent and empathically null for weeks. Very convenient, isn't it, Wise? You've managed to find a way to protect him against my little proclivities. Proclivities he told you about?" "Proclivities?" Jannia frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. I told you, I used caffeine because I didn't know of anything else that would put him out without killing him. I don't care what you plan to do with him as long as you get him away from me." Ziala looked down at Emarr's inert form. "Did you hear that, darling? Your sweet, precious lover doesn't care what I do to you. Heartwarming, isn't it?" It was all Emarr could do to ignore the mocking contempt in her eyes. He focused on Jannia, only on Jannia. Her face was his lifeline and his anchor. It did not matter that she dared not let any reassurance mar the cold, impassive facade she was forced to wear. He knew the woman behind it. She had shared with him all the passion of her body and spirit, had wept in his arms and rested oh, so trustingly curled into the shelter of his body. Still, bereft of any tangible sign of what he knew, a part of him squirmed in apprehension. Ziala moved past Jannia, out of Emarr's field of vision. Jannia turned to watch her go, and Emarr's soul ached at the loss of his beloved's face. He focused on her stance, on her body language, for some clue as to what the other woman was doing. A familiar sound-wood sliding against wood. A drawer opening? Jannia's shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, then relaxed more slowly-forcedto relax? Had he not been so tightly focused on her and only her, he might have missed it. Wood-on-wood. Thump. A drawer closing? Ziala moved back into sight. In her hand- Fear washed over Emarr like a splash of liquid nitrogen. The knife in her hand was familiar. Once, tiny white scars had criss-crossed his back, chest and arms from the tender caress of its blade. Once, he had covered his body in shame to hide them. Merilee had spent almost her entire savings to have Ziala's marks erased from his body. It had delayed her independence from her obnoxious brother for another whole year. Since then, he had proudly bared his unmarked flesh to the galaxy in gratitude. He had tried, after they parted ways, to pay her back, but she would never take so much as a tenth-credit from him. The memory shamed him now. Jannia's gaze was fixed on the thin, shining blade, and Emarr wondered at the effort it must cost her to appear unconcerned. A knife. Gandes had used a knife on her- Ziala tested the blade against the edge of her thumb. A thick dark-red drop of blood bloomed against her fair skin. She raised her hand to her mouth to suck it away. "He won't feel anything," Jannia said. Her voice was almost too cold. Brittle cold. "I'm not concerned with whathe'll feel." Ziala stepped toward the pod, and Jannia's gaze followed her. She took a moment to push her sleeves up her arms before crouching down at Emarr's side. The cut would be shallow, barely grazing the skin, really. Just enough to bleed. Just enough to hurt. Except it would not hurt. Not him, anyway. He focused on Jannia, on her face. And tried not to look at the man who had taken one step closer, who stood at her shoulder, close enough to touch. Close enough to react swiftly, if she cared about Emarr's fate after all. Her gaze met Emarr's. With Ziala bent over him, with Dumal behind Jannia, Emarr was the only one who could see the anguish in her eyes. The guilt. The horror. The helplessness. What memories must this be bringing back for her? Hold on. Do not act. She will not permanently damage me. She will not-waste me. The knife moved. Emarr, still focused on Jannia, did not see the blood well from the shallow cut. He did see Jannia's jaw clench, just for a second, before she forced it to relax. He did not need his empathic talents to know how close she was to the edge of her control.Hold on, my Jannia. Hold on. Ziala made several more slow, careful cuts, pausing between them, making a show of studying their aesthetic effect. Finally, a smile of feline satisfaction played across her face. She rose in a single fluid motion, and turned to face Jannia once again. Somehow, Jannia managed to get her features under control. Ziala studied Jannia's face for a long moment. But Jannia gave nothing away. Emarr's spirit swelled with pride at her strength, her control, even as it ached in sympathy for the anguish hidden behind that control. He could not hurt physically, but he could, and did, hurt for her. "You have a very good poker face, Wise," Ziala said. "For all the good it does you." She glanced at Dumal. "Show me. Show me what she felt, watching me carve my name into her lover's body." Emarr's gaze moved to the other man's face. But if anything, it revealed less than Jannia's. His eyes darkened in what Emarr recognized as deliberate empathic communication. Though justwhat was being communicated, Emarr could not have said. Ziala's gaze flicked to Jannia. "Interesting. According to Dumal, you feel nothing." Jannia shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe I don't." "I don't believe that. I know you feel. Fear when someone touches you. Revulsion at the idea of sex. I've done my homework, Captain Wise. The idea that you would feel nothing, watching a man who's either your lover or your seducer helpless under my knife-I don't buy it. Horror, sympathy, satisfaction-I don't care. You'd feelsomething. The fact that you've buried your feelings so deeply even my empath can't sense them-it does not inspire my trust, Captain Wise, and I'm frankly insulted that you'd think it would." She glanced down at the knife, still wet with Emarr's blood, and a slow, wicked smile curved her full lips. "Come here, Dumal." The man left his place at Jannia's shoulder and approached his mistress. Ziala held out the knife, hilt-first. "It's Captain Wise's turn now." CHAPTER 19 ========== No. God, no. Anything but this. Please. I can't- Dumal took a step toward Jannia, holding the knife hilt-first toward her. Emarr's blood glistened on the blade. Red, red as a Human's. Red as her own. Understanding. Insistence. Jannia raised her eyes to meet the empath's gaze. His face was as impassive as she strove to keep her own. He sent her a gentle thread of compulsion, nothing she could not have resisted had she chosen to. Cautiously, she gave herself over to it. It was the only way- Her fingers moved to wrap around the handle. It was cool, and felt like bone. Her gaze flicked to Ziala. The other woman leaned casually against the high, winged back of the chaise with a blaster she hadn't been holding before. That was what she got for trusting Dumal, even for a second. She fought off his subtle influence, bracing herself for a more insistent assault that never came. No matter how hard it was, no matter how much it hurt, she was going to have to do this of her own accord. Jannia moved to Emarr's side, crouched down beside him. Looked him in the eye.I'm sorry, she mouthed silently.I have to. She forced herself not to look at his face. There was no way she could go through with this if she saw his eyes. Bad enough to look at his body, remember her vain but determined efforts to create its likeness in clay-to see the shallow cuts marring his perfect chest. She dared not show hesitation. Dared not let her hand tremble, as she sought an unmarred stretch of skin and set the blade against it. The knife was very sharp. It took only the most minute of pressure to slice through the upper layers of skin. The edges of the wound drew apart-dry at first, as though she had cut not into living flesh but only into clay. Then the blood appeared. Droplets, like tiny glistening beads of deep red glass. Then more welled up, and she couldn't fool herself that it was anything but blood. She traced a simple pattern, forcing herself to work slowly, carefully. His body was so still, unnaturally so. He should flinch away, should grab her thin wrist in his big strong hand andstop her. But of course he could not, and she knew it would be all over for both of them if she stopped herself.He can't feel it, she reminded herself desperately. But it didn't matter. She could feel it for both of them, her heart sliced open, her spirit bleeding. At last she was finished. Five thin, glistening cuts intersecting to form a star, like the center of a pentagram. Not too deep. It would, she told herself in a desperate attempt at reassurance, be all but healed by the time sensation returned. She drew back, and began to rise. "Not so fast." Jannia stopped, still poised in a half-crouch, and turned her head to look at Ziala. "I didn't mean for you to mark him, Captain Wise. I meant for you to kill him." Horror stabbed Jannia's heart like a jagged shard of ice and broke off inside.I should have seen this coming. "Kill him?"Jannia managed, somehow, to keep the horror out of her voice and replace it with indignant disbelief. "What's the point of that? It's a waste-" "Yes, it is," Ziala agreed with a hint of what almost sounded like genuine regret. "But I need to know how far I can trust you. How far you're willing to go. If that requires sacrificing this man..." Ziala's shrug was clearly meant to be nonchalant. But a tingle of suppressed anguish in the back of Jannia's mind told her otherwise. Jannia resisted the urge to look at the source of the third-hand emotion. Dumal was playing a dangerous game. Playing her and Ziala against each other for reasons she couldn't begin to guess. Drawing in a deep breath, she got to her feet. "Forget it, McGann. I'm not going to kill this man for no good reason." Her gaze rested on Ziala's blaster, now pointed in her direction. Somehow, she managed to keep her breathing steady, her voice level. "Find someone else to play your silly little control games with." The knife was a solid weight in Jannia's hand. The last, illusory vestige of control left to her. Her fingers tightened for a moment on the bone hilt, then slackened. Jannia kept her gaze fixed on Ziala's face and only heard the soft thud as bone and metal hit carpet. "Trust me, or kill me. I really don't care which. But quit toying with me. I'm not one of your playthings." Ziala raised the muzzle of her blaster, aimed it straight between Jannia's eyes. Jannia's heart plunged into the hollow pit of her belly. She'd made a leap of faith, and it had launched her straight off a cliff. How could she have expected anything else? Jannia had always known this moment would come. That one day, she would take just one risk too many. She'd accepted that. Even been comforted by it. She hadn't expected fear. Hadn't expected regret. For some reason, the thought of the barely begun sculpture of Emarr stung her, the fact that she'd never finish it now ridiculously tragic.I need more time, damn it! Slowly, Ziala lowered the blaster. Jannia watched it fall to Ziala's side, then raised her face to stare, uncomprehending, into the other woman's eyes. "You're a cool one," Ziala said, and her voice held a trace of what sounded almost like admiration. "You haven't spared his life, you know. I can as easily kill him myself." "What purpose would that serve? He's much more valuable alive." "You forget where we are," Ziala said mildly. "I'd wager he's worth several hundred credits a kilogram dead. You know the Mercalan nobility and their exotic taste in meats. And that's not to mention what his hide's worth." Jannia felt the blood drain from her face. Nausea ate at her gut like a parasite. The reaction hit her hard and deep, and there was no hiding it. No use even trying to hide it. Ziala laughed. "So you're not made of stone after all." She gestured to Dumal. "Take our new acquisition to the guest quarters. The woman can tend him until his fate is decided." Jannia watched Dumal lift Emarr's limp body from the pod and carry him from the room. A part of her soul left with them. God, what have I gotten him into?She swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat, and fought to regain control. Regain control. Right. She'd never had it to begin with. * * * As a young hunter, Emarr had taken great pride in his ability to spot a well-camouflaged fenbuck out of the corner of his eye. Still, he did not think he had ever fully appreciated his peripheral vision until now. Hanging head-down with nothing in front of him but Dumal's liveried buttocks made it difficult to take stock of his surroundings. He caught a glimpse of the door as Dumal turned to open it. Dark polished wood. Dumal moved into the room, just barely past the doorframe, and dumped Emarr onto the floor. Inert as he was, there was nothing Emarr could do to control his fall. He landed on his side, then rolled, as luck would have it, onto his front, where he had an excellent view of a rich carpet that smelled strongly of dye and lanolin, and the carved legs of a large chair. "What is this?" The voice was a woman's, and it spoke in a language Emarr had not heard from another adult mouth in over a decade. "Are you not finished betraying our people yet? What did the demoness offer you in exchange for your soul? What have you done to-" The voice was cut off as abruptly as if the speaker's throat had been cut. Emarr could hear footfalls, soft and carpet-muffled. He caught a glimpse of well-formed bare feet moving past him. A woman's feet, with pearly white toenails and a jagged white scar on one heel. "Dovay-" That voice, too, was cut off, and the room was silent but for a barely perceptible scraping noise. More footfalls, and then the sound of the door sliding closed heralded silence's abrupt end. "Why did he take thosethings off you?" A childish voice, high and tremulous. An older, but still young, voice replied. "So she can take care ofhim, I guess." "I thought he was dead," the child said. A pair of small bare feet moved into Emarr's field of vision, attached to short sturdy legs encased in rough hide leggings. "Of course he is not dead, you fool," said the youth. "Can you not see him breathing?" More feet moved into view, bigger ones, a man's feet attached to a boy's legs. His leggings were finer, and he wore sandals. "Help me roll him over." The room rolled disorientingly, and then Emarr got his first good look at the owners of those feet. The younger boy looked about seven or eight, the elder, perhaps fourteen. Both were Lidaru, but there the resemblance between them ended. "Gods, look what they did to him," said the older boy with a disgusted grimace. He put his hands on Emarr's shoulders and shook him. "Can you hear me? Can you speak?" Of course. I am just lying here in silence, staring at you, because I want to rest my vocal cords. "Stop poking at him, Nikar, and help me." A third person appeared-the woman. A very pretty woman, Emarr noted, though her beauty was marred by dark circles of fatigue under her eyes, as though restful sleep had eluded her for many nights. She rubbed at her wrists, which still showed the ridged brownish marks where a pair of magni-binders had just been removed. "Cold, traitorous spawn of ananaschra. He could have at least put the poor man on the bed." Emarr felt motion, saw the room move as the woman, with a grunt of effort, tried to lift him. "He is a heavy one. Do you think you can help me with him, Nikar?" "With these things on?" Emarr could not tell if the scowl on the teenager's face was new or just a continuation of a preexisting one. "I can try, I guess." Together, the woman and the boy managed to lift, drag and wrestle Emarr across the room and onto the bed. Emarr mentally added carpet burns to the steadily lengthening list of things he was glad he could not feel. "Jussel," the woman said, "get me a wet cloth from the bathing chamber so I can clean this man's wounds." The younger boy dashed off, presumably toward the sanitory. A luxurious one indeed, Emarr mused, if the woman had actually been able to recognize it as a "bathing chamber." The woman's hands moved near Emarr's face, down past the sides of his head, as though smoothing back the braided forelocks of his hair. "Youhave been ill-used! Why are you so still? Can you not speak at all?" Answering her was impossible. All he could do was look at her. She had a heart-shaped face with skin like polished jade and wide-set, deep blue eyes. The first grown woman of his own species he had seen in over a decade, she seemed almost exotic. "I am Aniyn, but men call me Blue Eyes. Jussel is my son. The older boy, Nikar, is my stepson. Their father is dead, killed by that fire-haired demoness. I have prayed to the gods to send us a man to take care of us, to deliver us-" She gave a hollow bark of empty laughter. "What have we done that they mock us so?" He would have chided her if he were able to speak, told her to have faith, that the gods would not forsake her and help was at hand. But he could no more reassure her than he could raise his head from her lap. Jussel returned and climbed up on the side of the bed next to his mother, handing her the cloth. As Aniyn bent over Emarr, using the cloth to clean the wounds he could not feel, the boy watched his face with wide-eyed fascination. "He does not move at all! Does not even twitch when you touch his cuts.It is like he is not even there. Can you feel him, Dovay? Is he-you know-in there?" The woman frowned, focusing her full attention on Emarr's face. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and her frown deepened. "I sense nothing. He feels-empty." "Do you think the demoness sucked his soul out?" Nikar, who had moved out of Emarr's field of vision, answered with the kind of contempt only a brother could manage. "She's no demon, snot-nose. Or if she is, that Jannia person is too, since they're obviously the same race." "Use the callname Jussel gave her," Blue Eyes corrected sternly. "Just because we have been torn from our home is no reason to forget everything we know of proper behavior." "I am not going to call her that. It is a stupid name." "They are not the same race," Jussel said. "They cannot be. The other woman does not have fire for hair. She has black eyes that glitter like they have stars in them.I think she is a goddess come to save us." "Of course," Nikar said coldly. "That explains why we are still locked up in here-only with a soulless hulk to take care of now. Come to think of it, nothing like that happened beforeshe showed up. Maybe she is the one who sucked his soul out." "His soul is intact," Blue Eyes said with quiet certainty. "One need only look into his eyes to see that. Some powerful magic has placed a wall around it, but it is there." She touched his brow. "There must be some way to breach that wall." Jussel frowned. "I do not know. Maybe he is like this for a reason. Perhaps the gods are punishing him for something. Or testing him. Or testingus-" He chewed nervously at his lip. "Please. You think the gods really care about a wet-bottomed slug like you?" "Nikar!"Aniyn's voice was cold as steel, and her eyes burned. "Your words border on blasphemy. Do you want toensure the gods turn their backs on us?" "They already have," Nikar declared coldly. "You are just too wish-blind to see it." Aniyn heaved such a heavy miserable sigh that even numb as his spirit was Emarr could feel her distress. He wished he could comfort her somehow. A word. A touch. But he could no more reach out to this stranger than he could protect the woman he loved. He was useless, just as Ziala had said. And it cut him more deeply than any knife ever could. "I do not think so." Jussel's words, so close on the heels of Emarr's last thought, startled him. "What, son?" the woman prompted. "What do you not think?" "That the gods have turned their backs on us. I think they sent this man to help us after all." He gestured with his shackled hands, toward his mother's free ones. "He is the reason why-" The woman's blue eyes widened, and she gazed down at Emarr with rapt speculation and what might be the beginnings of hope. "Yes," she said, chewing thoughtfully at her lower lip. "He is, is he not?" * * * "If there is one thing I did not expect from you, Captain Wise, it's hypocrisy." There was contempt in Ziala's gaze, and disappointment. "We're in the business of selling sentient beings. That requires a willingness to accept that we'll have no control over what happens to those beings afterward. To pretend otherwise would be morally dishonest." "So moral honesty matters to you?" Ziala shrugged. "I wouldn't say itmatters to me. It is one of the few so-called virtues I respect." Jannia nodded. "Of course. Seems to me people always have more respect for the virtues they lack." "Excuse me?" "You heard me. Isn't it morally dishonest not to admit to your own greed? Why are therethree empaths in your guest quarters, not counting Dengas, if you're trying to keep your operation small? Who was the last customer you turned down? Do you even already have buyers for all three of those people, or did you just pick up a couple of extras while you were at it?" "I had orders for a woman and a small boy. Long-standing orders. Children and grown women are hard to get without approaching a village directly, and I don't want the natives to figure out just what is happening to the people who disappear. I took the adolescent because he was a witness. It was that or kill him. And I thought I might keep him for myself. He's still too young, of course, but in a couple of years-" She ran her tongue along the edge of her teeth. "The unprecedented amount of freedom I have given Dumal is starting to go to his head. It can't hurt to show him he can be replaced." "Like you replaced Dengas." Jannia didn't bother trying to hide her distaste at the idea. Let Ziala have the satisfaction of thinking she'd figured out Jannia's weakness. Maybe, with luck, she'd think she could exploit it somehow. Ziala smirked. "Such an innocent. Do you really think the individual man matters? One male body, or one empathic mind, is just like another. All that matters is what they can do for you. If anything, Dumal is an improvement over Dengas. His empathic skills are more powerful and better honed. And he's not nearly so-submissive." Submissive? Emarr? Are we talking about the same man?"I'd have thought you'd like the submissive type." "Not in an empath. It's all about sharing the experience. It's so much more satisfying when they can give as good as they get. And I never could manage to get Dengas to hurt me, no matter what I did." Of course not. Some people have lines they won't cross. Not that someone like you would ever understand that. But that means Dumaldoeshurt her. That he enjoys the pain, too. Jannia forced herself not to stare at the closed door through which Emarr and Dumal had passed. Aniyn and the boys didn't look like Dumal had been hurting them, and he hadn't been any rougher with Jannia than she'd had reason to expect. She still didn't like the idea of Emarr alone with him. "How did this get to be about your sex life?" she demanded. "I thought we were discussing whether or not I still have a place in your organization. Though if you really plan to keep that boy for yourself I'm not sure I even still want one." "What do you mean?" "I mean I'm starting to have some qualms aboutyour reliability. You claim to want a small, discreet operation, but you'll grab as many of these empaths in one sweep as you can and figure out what to do with them later. You talk about keeping merchandise for yourself, even though you admit you've got no use for the boy at his present age, because of some silly control game you're playing with your bedmate. I don't think you have any real plan here, any real goals. It's just a game to you, and I'm just the latest in a series of pawns. Well, I'm not interested in playing games, McGann. I'm interested indoing business. I bet you haven't even investigated the Kethrian market, have you?" "That would require an agent on the planet itself. An agent who'd require a steady, reliable supply and abig cut of the profits." Jannia nodded. "Then again, it would also mean more profits for your Kethrian agent to want a cutof." Ziala sipped her drink. "Interesting how you don't bother mentioning that you and Dengas have mutual friends on Kethry." Jannia shrugged. "Friends are friends and business is business. In case you didn't notice, I just used, violated and betrayed the only person in the galaxy who ever loved me, and I did it for you." "Yes, and it was a very entertaining performance. But I hope you didn't really think it would earn my trust back." "That would be difficult to do, since you never trusted me to begin with. I made a tangible act of faith, and in return you play games with me. You're still playing games with me. If betraying Dengas wasn't enough, then tell me now, Ziala-what would be?" Ziala said nothing. She simply crouched down to where the bloody knife still lay at Jannia's feet. She picked it up, and frowned at the reddish stain it had left on the carpet. "A little more care with my things would be a good start," she chided. "I expect you to figure out how to get this stain out. Beyond that-I have some thinking to do." CHAPTER 20 ========== There was an old story Jannia's neighbor across the hall used to tell, about a woman who enticed her husband into murdering his rival. Later, driven mad with remorse, she'd tried over and over to wash the imagined blood off her hands, until the lye-parched skin peeled and cracked. Until the blood on her hands was real, and her own. Jannia thought of that story now as she stared down at the small red stain of Emarr's blood. Naive of her to think delivering him into Ziala's hands would earn her trust. People like Ziala didn'ttrust. They used. And all Jannia had done was to hand Ziala the perfect tool to use against her. She cursed herself for her visceral reaction to Ziala's taunt aboutwhere they were. Whether she'd actually managed to hide her feelings from Dumal-not bloody likely-or whether he had withheld those feelings from Ziala for reasons of his own, Ziala'd had no tangible evidence that Jannia cared about Emarr's fate until that moment. Not that thatnecessarily meant she cared about him for his own sake. It could as easily have been horror at the idea ofanyone being introduced to the local cuisine from the inside. Still, it had shown Jannia with brutal clarity just what kind of danger she'd delivered Emarr into. Stupid to think rendering him harmless, as he'd put it, would offer any real protection against someone with such obvious disregard for others' lives. She had to get him out. She couldn't leave him in Ziala's clutches another hour, another moment- And how exactly are you going to save him, with no weapons and no backup? Preferably taking Ziala down in the process? Visions of using a broken shard of a drinking glass, or a burning log from the fire, popped into her head and popped right back out again. Nothing like letting Ziala know she was the enemy in no uncertain terms. And even if she succeeded, that still left her with a helpless partner and three innocent prisoners to rescue without drawing the attention of hotel staff who were probably in Ziala's pocket.I still need her trust, damn her. I need the slaves handed over to me willingly. When the time comes to tip my hand, I don't want to have to concentrate on rescuing anyone but Emarr. Which raised the question of Dumal. What was going on with him? Ziala trusted him to provide insight into Jannia's emotions, trusted him with overseeing the slaves, let him go armed. She trusted him, as much as she trusted anyone-much more, apparently than she trusted Jannia. But he'd fed Jannia insights into Ziala's emotional state while under instructions to do just the opposite. And he certainly hadn't shown Ziala any more of Jannia's reactions than suited his purposes. Whose side was he on? Or was he a side all by himself? Speak of the devil,she thought, as the big empath came back into the room. He inclined his head toward her in greeting and moved toward the table where the tray of drinks still rested. He hesitated a moment, glancing in her direction, and gestured toward her and Rogai's barely touched drinks. "I'm finished," Jannia said. "What about Rogai? Is he-finished?" Dumal's answer was a nod, and a smile much too coldly satisfied to belong on an empath's face. He slowly drew a single finger across his throat in a gesture that crossed all linguistic boundaries. "She doesn't waste any time, does she?" He shook his head and moved the two still-full glasses onto the tray. "I know what you are. I've encountered an empath of your strength before. You could control Ziala,make her free you. Why do you stay with her?" No response. He didn't even look at her. "An hour ago she was in bed with another man," Jannia persisted. "A man she killed, or maybe had you kill, without a second thought. How do you know it won't be you one day?" He did look at her then. Long and hard. Appraising. She had no trouble interpreting the question in his eyes. "Why do I want to risk working with her, then? Because I don't care. Not about the dangers. Not about the risks. Not even about whether or not your mistress ever trusts me, really. It's something to do. Something to make my life interesting for a while. And I'll tell you this for nothing-a life with Ziala in itis interesting."Just like the old Terran curse. She knew what he was, and that the words she spoke would never convince him on their own. But it was so easy to call up the feelings that went with them-the old, familiar hopelessness, the apathy. She hadn't even realized how truly empty her life had become, until it stopped being that way. His gaze met hers, and his brown eyes sparkled with mocking amusement as he effortlessly fed her what she'd felt in that instant of time when she stared down the barrel of Ziala's blaster. But he made no gesture, no outward sign of the truth that had passed between them. It was enough that she knew he knew. Dumal picked up the tray of drinks and left the room. * * * "When theKinya-d'sar comes back with our dinner you can jump him," Jussel said, eyes sparkling with wicked, conspiratorial delight. "Make a big rope from torn-up sheets and strangle him with it. Nikar and me will run out while you have him distracted-" Aniyn had thoughtfully propped Emarr up with pillows so that he could at least see what was going on. Now she sat on the edge of the bed, hovering protectively close as though Emarr were another of her children. "He is much stronger than I, Jussel." "You are strong!" Jussel insisted. "And he will not expect it. We will help you. We will throw blankets over his head so he cannot see." "Right," Nikar interjected. "You will be so scared you can no more move or talk thanhe can." He gestured contemptuously in Emarr's direction. "Scared as a cringing, whining baby, and so will I. I tried to fight it before. It does not help." He glared at his stepmother with cold accusation. "Andshe would grovel in front of him like a beaten wife, begging for scraps of affection, would you not, Blue Eyes?" If Emarr could have spoken, he would have had sharp words for the boy about proper respect. But Aniyn only hung her head in shame, and Jussel, who could have defended her, only shot Nikar a sullen look that brought out a previously unnoticed resemblance between them. Nikar sighed, and rubbed at his red-streaked and dark-shadowed eyes. "You cannot fight someone who can take away your will, little brother. We have already tried. And even if we could, where would we go? We are so far from home even the stars are strange. We do not know the language, we have nothing to trade-" He eyed his stepmother speculatively for a moment, then grimaced, and shook his head. "And I believe they may have some way to watch us, to listen to us. The fire-haired woman is no more a demon than you are are, Blue Eyes, but so much in this place is strange. The bathing chamber. Door locks that speak, food that comes from a wall-or did, before Jussel managed to break the thing somehow. It is all some strange magic, and I trust none of it." "There has to be a way to fight him," Aniyn said. "To resist him. His mind is powerful, but he is one to our three-" She shot Emarr an apologetic glance for not including him in that number. But he was hardly in a position to qualify as one of their assets. No, I am a liability, a burden. My presence might have inspired our captors to remove the woman's binders, but my condition ties her hands just as effectively, unless she is willing to leave me behind. He hoped that fact would stay her hand, that concern for him would keep her and the boys from an ill-timed attempt at escape. Jannia was out there, just a few thin walls away, working toward their deliverance. If all went according to plan they would be given over into her hands just as the girl Lirah had been. Patience...and faith. Those were the virtues they required now. Jannia would not fail them. Or him. "It does not matter how many of us there are," Nikar insisted. "Maybe if there were a hundred, it would make a difference. I am beginning to think the Alorai have the right idea about people like him. He can take away our will with asingle thought-" Aniyn shook her head. "Not our will, Nikar. No one has the power to do that. He can only project his own emotions, or enhance what we already feel. Nothing we cannot do ourselves, except that he is better at it. We have to be strong, that is all. To find the will to act in spite of what we feel. When the opportunity presents itself-" "Gods, woman, do youwant to get us killed? I have heard of widows so stricken with grief they cannot wait to join their husbands, but most have the courtesy not to take the rest of the family with them!" Nikar shot to his feet and stalked toward the only sanctuary available to him. The sanitory door hissed closed behind him. "We are not going to be killed, are we, Dovay?" Jussel asked, staring after his brother. "No," she vowed. "But we are not going to be sold away from one another, either." * * * Dumal didn't return after carrying the drinks away, and contemplating the tiny russet bloodstain on the carpet had lost what little appeal it had possessed to begin with. Jannia stood for a time, staring into the fire, refusing to let boredom, impatience or the cold knot in her belly that wouldn't ease until Emarr was safe again tempt her into pacing. She'd slipped once. Let Ziala get under her skin. Let her reactions betray her. She couldn't afford to risk that again. She had to play the role that had been laid out before her.Cold. Hard. Stay safe behind your walls. Let nothing in, nothing out. Your feelings can only betray you. She frowned inwardly. She'd tried that tack, and where had it got her? Nowhere. Ziala hadn't believed it for a moment. And why should she? It wasn't true anymore. Maybe it was time for the truth. At least, an edited version of the truth. It was also time to stop letting Ziala pull her strings like an old-fashioned puppet. She'd told Ziala no more game playing, and the slaver had responded by leaving her to cool her heels like a schoolgirl sent to the principal's office. No more. It gave Ziala the advantage, and what's more, it wasted time. Time Jannia didn't have. TimeEmarr didn't have. Jannia headed down the corridor down which Ziala had left earlier, passing the so-called guest quarters, a small kitchen and a couple of locked rooms that were probably more bedrooms. She found Ziala seated, her feet propped up on the audio-holovid console, in a small but well- equipped office. The kind some hotels kept for their richest guests' private security teams. Since Ziala's security team seemed to consist of the dubiously loyal Dumal, it didn't surprise Jannia that she manned the office herself. "There you are," Jannia said, leaning in the open doorway. "How long did you expect me to cool my heels in your sitting room?" Ziala shrugged. "I was curious as to how long you would." She gestured toward the room's only other seating, a wheeled armchair upholstered in a brocade fabric that looked to be Odari in origin. "Have a seat, Wise. It isn't stuffed with Kadari pelts, in case you were wondering." Her dark eyes glinted mockingly in the room's dim light. "At least, I don't think it is." "I'll pass." Jannia took a few steps into the room and stood looking over Ziala's shoulder at the array of holovid screens set in the console before her. Three were on, set to flat-vid-the sitting room, an exercise room in which Dumal was doing some sort of martial arts workout that involved a lot of muscle-flexing, and the guest quarters, where Aniyn had Emarr propped into a sitting position on one of the beds. The audio for that screen was active, but Jannia couldn't understand a word spoken except for names. "Anything interesting going on?" Jannia asked. "Oh, yes. They're plotting their escape-at least, the woman and the brat are. Apparently they're planning to attack Dumal when he brings dinner." She shrugged. "I hope they ate a good lunch." "You understand their language," Jannia observed. "I've been dealing with these beings for over a decade, all told. I know enough to follow all the usual conversations."Kai shalar no hin Kinya-d'sar jais av neshal. Let's try to throttle the monk with a bedsheet." She laughed. "He's over twice the woman's mass. He could snap her like a twig." "I imagine they're getting desperate. They must know that once they're sold, they'll probably never see each other again." She paused. "You wouldn't have these problems if you'd just keep them in stasis." Ziala rolled her eyes. "That again." "Stasis accidents just aren't that common. How many injuries have you had over the years?" Ziala said nothing. "I think the reason you won't allow them to be put into stasis is that they wouldn't be nearly as entertaining that way." "You think too much," Ziala retorted. "It's not what I pay you for." "It should be." "I still haven't decided whether I'll be paying you at all." She didn't go so far as to threaten Jannia's life again, at least. A good sign. Of course, the night was still young. "True. But you must be wavering in that direction if you let me live." "Maybe you're just too entertaining to kill yet." Ziala picked at the tiny scab that had formed on her slit thumb. "Did you get that stain out?" "Get it out yourself." Jannia reached out and swiveled Ziala's chair around to face her, trying not to wince at the feel of smooth, soft leather whose origins she didn't want to know. "That disgusting little game was your idea. I wouldn't have shed a drop of that man's blood if you'd given me a choice." "I see." "I don't think you do. I'm a businesswoman, Ziala. I don't get any satisfaction out of deliberately hurting a sentient being. Not without a good reason. There was no reason for what we did to Dengas. And don't feed me any crap about it being necessary to prove my loyalty, because we both know that was just an excuse. You made me cut him because you enjoyed watching me do it." Ziala leaned further back in her chair and crossed her legs. "What if I did?" "Like I said, I'm a businesswoman. I'm in this for the money. I have no interest in performing for your entertainment. And frankly, the way you treat the merchandise bothers me." "Bothers you." Ziala's eyes widened as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "The girl we sold to Silas Kilborne was so terrified she almost injured herself. You blithely allowed that woman in there to have her binders taken off, ostensibly to tend Dengas-which Dumal could easily have done-because giving her false hope about her chances of escape is a fun way to pass the time. You say you don't want any of these beings put in stasis because of the dangers-but you don't seem to care about letting them endanger themselves. This isn't business to you. It's a game. A big, sick game." "Are you telling me you don't want this job?" "I didn't say that. I just want to make my position clear. To me, that's what this is. A job. Business. Not entertainment, not some cruel game, a job. One I plan to take very seriously, and I'm starting to realize that you don't. Take it seriously, that is." Ziala's fingers dug hard into the arms of her chair, making the bones in her knuckles stand out, and her eyes blazed up at Jannia like coals thrown in a plasma fire. "I have been doing thisjob since before you had even gotten up the nerve to stow away on your ex-partner's ship. I have placed over fifty empaths with somevery satisfied buyers. I can afford to stay in the finest suites in the most expensive hotels in the sector, while you still live off of your beat-up old fourth-hand freighter. Don't talk to me about not taking business seriously." "I don't deny you've done well, Ziala," Jannia said. "I just think you could do a lot better. You've ignored a prime opportunity for some steady, repeat business-" "Kethry again." "Yes, Kethry again. The older boy'd fetch a good price in the black market mate trade. Alien males always do.Empathic alien males-God, never mindstaying in a place like this, you couldbuy it." "I don't think so. Kethry's certainly a lucrative market, but it's not a very discreet one. Word about my little operation would be all over the planet in weeks. I'd never be able to meet the demand. Not without more agents than I could possibly control." "Control. See, Ziala, that's just the problem. I don't want to be under yourcontrol. I've spent the last year trying to claim control over my own life, and I'm not about to relinquish it now. Especially when I seem to be the only person involved in this little scheme who actually knows what she's doing." Ziala's brows drew together. "Do you always insult your potential employers, Wise?" "No. But I don't think I'm looking to be a simple employee any more. I was thinking more of a full partnership." Ziala laughed. "And you accuse me of playing games. Why in the universe would I want to take you on as a partner?" "Maybe to prevent stupid mistakes likeprofoundly undercharging Silas Kilborne?" Ziala's body actually jerked at the words, like she'd suffered a physical blow. "What do you mean? I charged him what I would for any empath of the girl's age and talents." "Ziala, Ziala, Ziala." Jannia punctuated each repetition of the name with a slow, pained shake of her head. "Compared to what he would have been willing to pay, you practically gave her away. Don't you do any research on your clients? No, don't answer that. If you charged him so littleknowing about the boy, I don't think I could survive hearing about it." "Boy?" "Kilborne's mentally challenged, emotionally disturbed half-Odari son. The one he wanted the empath for. Of course, he only went looking for an empath after he exhausted every other available option and blew about half his fortune in the process. It's not like he wasdesperate or anything." Jannia rather liked the nice, pale green color Ziala turned at her words. "He told me-" "That he'd heard you could find him an exotic bedmate, one who could really melt his shorts? Sure he did. Unlike some people I could name, he isn't stupid." "But I had Dumal with me. He should have known-should have sensed-" Now, that's interesting. That's very interesting indeed. Ziala apparently thought so as well. Color rose in her fair cheeks, mottling them an angry red that marred her too-perfect complexion. "You. When I had you mark Dengas. Dumal sent to me that you felt nothing-" Aha! Direct hit!"Of course I felt something. Revulsion. Anger at being forced to do something so senseless for your amusement. Disgust at having to touchhis body after what I'd already had to do with him. Oh, yeah, Ziala. I felt plenty." With a swift, mental apology to the man she was about to throw to the wolves, she moved in for the kill. "Just like you felt something when you ordered me to kill Dengas.Anguish. You realized too late what you'd said. That you'd gone too far even for you-ordered the death of a man you weren'tfinished with yet. You must have been so relieved when I refused." "He-" ===== "That's right, Ziala. Your precious lover, your trusted bodyguard, withheld key information from you, but for some reason was willing to feedme your most private feelings, things you probably had trouble admitting to yourself. I wonder why? I wonder whathis game is?" "You've been playing games too," Ziala accused. "With Dengas, at least. And how much money did you extort from Kilborne, then pocket for yourself, once you realized what I didn't know?" Jannia shrugged. "I let it go." "Youlet it go?" Ziala's face was almost purple now. "Raising the price after the terms had already been agreed on would have been bad business. Since you're so keen on discretion, word of mouth is pretty much all the publicity we have. He'd have paid, but he probably wouldn't have recommended us to his buddies." "Us." Ziala grimaced as she spoke the word, as though she weren't sure she liked its taste. "Yes, us. I think I've just about proven that not only do I have your best interests at heart, I'm pretty much the only person who does." She straightened. "If you want to do business with me-on my terms-you know where to find me." Jannia turned, and walked from the room without a single backward glance, hoping like hell that Ziala didn't call her bluff with a blaster shot to her unprotected back. CHAPTER 21 ========== Jannia dropped into theIce Dagger 's command chair, shaking so hard she thought she could hear her bones rattle. No sooner had she stalked out of that richly and horribly furnished hotel suite than the reality of what she had just done had hit her, hard, like a blaster strike to the gut. It had taken every ounce of strength in her to maintain calm, to keep her back straight and her limbs steady on the long walk back to her ship. Emarr. God, Emarr, what have I done? The words sounded so right coming out of me, but now they feel so wrong- She bit her lip so hard her teeth cut through flesh, flooding her mouth with the salt-and- copper taste of blood, and struggled to bring her emotions under control. What possible good did it do to second-guess herself now? It had been the best plan she had, and no matter how many times she played it over again in her mind that brilliant and day-saving alternate plan sheshould have come up with proved as elusive as it had before the fact. It had been a calculated gamble-she'd known that going in. She'd taken the risks knowingly, trying as she did so not to think too hard about what she was risking. Emarr had known, too. At least she had that much. He hadn't gone down believing she'd betrayed him. Stop thinking like that. This isn't over yet. You don't know she hasn't taken the bait. Jannia had done things like this her whole adult life. Schemes, scams and gambles. Risking her life, risking her partner's life, for nothing else but money and maybe a taste of adventure. But she'd never had this much at stake before. She didn't like it. Caring about the outcome was damned inconvenient. Stop reacting. Think. Act. Jannia activated the comm and hailed theViridian. "Showtime, O'Hare," Ryan's boyish face appeared onscreen. Distressed as she was, Jannia found his calm appearance deeply irritating. "Is the hook set?" "Either the hook is set or the fish is good and spooked. Either way she'll be on the move soon." "And if that metaphor gets extended any further it's going to snap." Jannia grimaced. "Get out there and keep an eye on Ziala's ship. Don't let her board. If you see her, let me know immediately." "What will you be doing?" "Waiting. That's about all Ican do right now." Ryan nodded. "I'll keep you informed. Hopefully the wait won't be too long." Something softened in his expression, and his hand moved toward the camera, as if to reach out to her. "Was it rough in there?" "Rough. Yeah." "You okay?" "Sure. You know me." O'Hare was wise enough not to press the subject. "I'm off. Talk to you soon." The screen went blank as he signed off. Jannia leaned back in her seat and heaved a long, weary sigh. Ryan O'Hare, king of stupid questions. Of course she wasn't okay. She wouldn't be okay until this ill-planned sting of theirs was over and Emarr was back with her where he belonged. Which reminded her... She found Emarr's weapons where he'd left them, in the small utility cupboard under a pile of old rags. She strapped his blaster to her hip, finding as much comfort in the fact that it washis as in the security of being armed again. She suppressed a reflexive swallow at what passed for a holdout weapon with him. A slender, delicate-looking knife not unlike the one Ziala had made Jannia use on him. She stuck the knife in her boot, thinking dark thoughts about giving Ziala a little of her own back. * * * The woman called Aniyn lay beside Emarr on the wide bed. He could see her out of the corner of his eye as he lay on his back, so close their bodies must be touching. Her face was turned toward him, her shadowed eyes open, watchful. Across the room, on the other bed, Jussel snored and Nikar ground his teeth. Emarr was grateful for the evidence of his remaining senses, for knowledge that he was not truly alone. For he had never felt so alone in all his life. It was a strange experience, sharing a bed with another woman when the one he loved was close enough he should have been able to touch her mind. He felt-unfaithful, somehow, though Aniyn did not appear to have touched him any more than was necessary to care for him in his helpless condition. Not that such care hadn't required some humiliatingly intimate contact so far. She had been considerate, talking to him about everything but what she was doing, and he had been blessedly unable to feel anything of her ministrations. Still, just knowing a strange woman had to care for him that way, that her son and stepson saw her doing so- Ah, well. At least it was not Jannia. He did not think he could have borne having his lover care for him like a squalling newborn. He would have grimaced at that thought if he could. At the moment, the ability to squall would be welcome. The woman was speaking to him now, her voice so low and so soft that were she not lying so close beside him he would never have heard it. Not the harsh sibilance of a whisper. Just a voice, soft as air, speaking to him so he would know she was there. "The man is aKinya-d'sar .His gifts are of the gods, given by them, consecrated to their service. But he has spit in the gods' faces, thrown in his lot with the demoness, and I cannot fathom why. Sometimes, just for a moment, I think I can feel him, out there-but he feels different. Sad. Lost. And then I realize it can only be my imagination. I am as Nikar says-wish-blind. So starved for hope I see it where there is none." Emarr stared at the ceiling, listening, because that was all he could do. Listen. Not touch her hand, not touch her mind, not even make one of those little, meaningless sounds that would tell her he heard and understood. Did she even know he could hear her? Did it matter? "They will take my boys from me. I know that. The ones who would buy a woman will not want a boy. The ones who do want a little boy-" Her voice cut off with a broken sound. "And there is nothing I can do. My son thanks the gods that your coming has freed my hands, but for all I can do they may as well still be tied." She shifted on the bed beside him, moving closer, resting her head against his shoulder so all he could see of her now was her hair. Her voice was so soft now he had to strain to hear it. "Listen to me. You lie here so still, so very much more helpless than I, and all I can do is complain to you about how helpless I feel. Is my presence any comfort to you at all? Can you even feel me?" Emarr did not answer, of course. Could not. Which was just as well, since his answer would hardly be a comfort to her. She rolled away from him, the movement so sudden Emarrfelt the bed shift. Motion. The only physical sensation left to him. He could see nothing of Aniyn now, only hear the soft muffled sniffing of someone trying desperately not to cry out loud. He just lay there, listening as Aniyn's muffled sobs faded into the slow, deep breaths of exhausted sleep. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for granting her the rest that eluded him. His body did not work. There was nothing he could dobut rest, and yet even that was denied him. He stared at the ceiling. A boring ceiling; plain, smooth white, without so much as a crack or an interesting stain to focus on. His soul ached with the combination of helplessness, boredom and a despair even his faith in Jannia's resourcefulness could not entirely hold at bay. He could do nothing-not for Aniyn, not for Jannia and not for himself. Could not even move his feet to offer some relief to his toes, which prickled like a whole hill of ants dwelled inside them- For a moment shock drove every rational thought from his mind.Too soon- It occurred to him, then, to wonder just how old the tea Jannia gave him had been. * * * Jannia straightened after smoothing down the blanket over the last of the cargo hold's fold-down wall berths and glanced at the chronometer set high in the wall. Not even an hour had passed. It felt much longer. And there had been no contact from either Ryan or Ziala. Jannia sat down on the bunk and dragged her hands through her sweat-damp hair. God, but she hated waiting. There was nothing she could do now until Ziala made a move, one way or the other. Nothing. What had possessed her to leave the hotel without some kind of guarantee that she'd be allowed back in? Burning her own bridges would have been bad enough, but she had managed to burn Emarr's with them. If she'd bet wrong, he was the one who would pay. Jannia gritted her teeth together and resisted the urge to bang her head against the wall a few times. She had to do something with the time that was crawling past so slowly she thought she could count in hours the time between her breaths. If she didn't, she was going to lose her mind. Abruptly, she remembered the half-finished sculpture in her cabin, waiting there under its coverings. Waiting for the touch of her hands to give it the semblance of life that had proved so elusive before. That her model wouldn't be here didn't matter. Her awareness of his absence was such a powerful force that the thought of him, the image of him, was carved into her brain. So be it. She had wished for more time, and she'd got it-more of it than she wanted. She wouldn't waste the gift. * * * If there was one thing more frustrating than being wholly unable to move or feel, it was being able to feel-and not daring to move. Emarr had tried, when the first maddening, crawling sensation returned to his toes, to wiggle them a little. Success had been elusive. He had managed a twitch, just enough to send a fresh jolt of prickles through his awakening digits, but little more. Sensation was returning, though, a little at a time. The tingling sensation in Emarr's toes had moved upward into his feet, and now it had begun in his fingers as well. He wanted to flex them, to clench them in the sheets against which they rested, but Nikar's speculations about viewing devices rung in his mind-and unlike the boy, he knew for certain that such things existed. Remaining absolutely still while sensation returned to his body, while his awakening nerves crackled, burned, itched; while the wounds on his chest stung and his aching head throbbed-it would be beyond difficult. It would be torture. But until the paralysis wore off enough that he could depend on his body to do as he willed, he needed to maintain the illusion that the paralysis held. Beside him, Aniyn squirmed restlessly in her sleep, her hip brushing his and let out a heavy, miserable sigh. It was going to be a long night. * * * Jannia stood in her cabin doorway, staring at the rumpled, empty bed. She had forgotten or neglected to change the sheets after her and Emarr's bittersweet, clay-smeared mating. Hadn't even taken the few moments needed to straighten and smooth bedding stained with clay and tears, sweat and semen. It wasn't lost on her that it could very well have been their last chance to make love, and they'd done it with her walls up, her mind churning with thoughts of guilt and betrayal. Don't let that have been the last time. There's so much more I- She closed her eyes, but not soon enough to prevent the escape of a lonely tear that rolled down her cheek to pool at the corner of her mouth. She knuckled it away. After taking a moment to moisten her hands in the steep-sided water bowl, Jannia uncovered the half-begun figure. For a moment, she just stood looking at it, at the raw humanoid form that could have represented any man. It wasn't as bad as she remembered it. She saw it through Emarr's eyes now, as a beginning, ripe with unrealized potential. A work in progress, much like herself. At least, she told herself she did. Jannia picked up a shaping tool and began. Not on the face, not yet-that would have to wait until he was here. She focused instead on the chest-the part of Emarr with which she had had the most recent direct contact. She would make it perfect, unmarked. The way it had been before- Jannia's hand trembled, and she had to stop a moment to breathe.Damn Ziala .And while we're at it, damn me. The clay scent filled her lungs, damp and earthy, doing nothing for her nerves. It mingled with the lingering tang of sex still clinging to the bed.Emarr, she reminded herself desperately.I made love with Emarr here. It has nothing to do with- Jannia clenched her teeth hard, feeling the pressure in her jaw, in her skull, and made another attempt to focus on her task. She held Emarr's image in her mind. The play of muscle under skin, over bone. She could do this. She didn't need his physical presence to envision the body whose power he had showed her so clearly. Didn't need his warm gaze on her, his sensually accented voice speaking to her, to calm her and hold her in the now. He was part of her- She set the tool against the clay's malleable surface and slowly, carefully began forming it into the likeness of her lover's body. It wasn't going well. She could see that the proportions were wrong, that she'd made his shoulders too wide, his torso too thick. He was strong-the strongest man she'd ever known, in more ways than she could name-but he wasn't this...this musclebound caricature. She reached for another tool, to scrape away some of the excess clay and begin again. Wide shoulders-but not that wide. Just wide enough to provide the perfect resting place for her head. A beautiful, muscular chest just broad enough to shelter all of her when he held her in the safety of his arms. She knew what she wanted, what he looked like, felt like. So why was his likeness turning out so wrong? She ground her teeth together and hissed out a curse. This wasn't working, damn it. She couldn't do it this way. She needed himhere! She threw down her tool and stood trembling, shaking with frustration and impatience and the sudden, bitter certainty that she'd lost him. Her throat stung like she'd swallowed acid, and struggling to see through the tears welling in her eyes was like trying to see through hot ice. Too hard. Too late. I'll never be able to do this-I've lost him, I know it, and I can't even- Sobbing with frustration, Jannia grabbed the old stained sheet protecting the table and yanked it loose, dislodging everything on it. Water, clay and shaping tools sloshed, crashed and splattered to the floor, soaking Jannia's feet, staining the tiny square of threadbare carpet she stood on. She stared down at the twisted, ruined hunk of Emarr's image, stunned at what she'd done, shaking with- Fear. Panic and fear and revulsion. And pain-terrible, tearing, lancing pain that she didn't think would ever stop. She struggled-kicked, thrashed, clawed-but the man was so strong, too strong. She screamed, but no one heard. Sobbed, but no one cared. He was tearing her apart- It ended, at last. The man went suddenly, terribly still, so still Jannia found herself wondering if he'd died, if somehow the struggle to subdue her and take her had overstrained his heart. But no, she could feel his heart through his lean, bony chest, pounding against her breasts, his breathing harsh and ragged in her ear. He rolled off her, away from her, and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling as Jannia struggled to sit, to gather what was left of her shredded clothes around her. A soundescaped his mouth, a sound she found herself thinking should by rights have come from her. A horrible sound, anguished, too weak and wounded to be a sob, as though raping her had broken something insidehim. Every instinct she possessed told her to flee-to crawl away, if she couldn't find the strength to rise and run. But that soundcalled to her, and something in her couldn't turn away. "Gandes?" His name was little more than a whisper on her bruised and torn lips. "God." It was more of a moan than a word. "What did she do to me? What did that bitchdoto me? It's not enough. It's nothing. I can't even feel it-" "I felt it," she whimpered brokenly. She would feel it forever, all her life. It would never go away- He didn't even seem to hear her. "It doesn't help. Nothing helps. It's empty, all of it. Ineedher-" "She's going to kill you." He laughed at that, a hard, mirthless bark that sounded more miserable than the soundhad. "God, I hope so." He rolled to face her, staring at her as if only just now really seeing her, and she could see that his face was wet, his eyes red. "What's your name, girl?" She shook her head. "You don't get that. You've taken everything else. You don't get that." At the sound of her words, his eyes burned with the same mad rage she'd seen in them just before- Shuddering with dread, she struggled to get her feet under her, knowing she'd made a terrible mistake. She shouldn't have defied him. Maybe, if she'd told him her name, it would make her real to him. Maybe, if she'd told him her name, he wouldn't hurt her again. "You think I've taken everything? You don't even know what that means. Compared to what your partner did to me, what I just did to you is a child's game." He grabbed at her, thin fingers strong as steel cables wrapping around her ankle, stopping her escape and jerking her hard toward him. It was only then that she saw the clay knife clasped in his other hand- * * * The room was still bathed in darkness when Emarr heard the soft hiss of the door sliding open. Aniyn tensed beside him; he could feel the rigidity in her muscles as she rolled toward him, whether to protect or seek protection he could not have said. "Get up," said Ziala's cool voice in a language she had never spoken in all the months Emarr had been her slave. Somewhere along the line, she'd finally taken the trouble to learn Lidaru. Interesting. So far, according to Aniyn and the boys, Ziala had left dealing with the slaves to Dumal. Why had that changed now? And what did Jannia have to do with it? Aniyn sat up, looked over to the other side of the room where shuffling noises indicated the boys were moving as well. "Where is theKinya-d'sar? " Aniyn asked. "That is none of your concern," Ziala snapped. "Now get up and get moving. It is time to go." "What about him?" Aniyn gestured to Emarr. "I do not think the boys and I can-" Ziala shook her head. "The man stays here." Aniyn wedged her body behind Emarr's, nudging him into a sitting position. "He needs tending," she protested. "We can-" From his new perspective Emarr could see his old mistress standing in the doorway, a stun pistol in her hand, aimed in Aniyn's direction. The uneasy expressions on the boys' faces indicated that they recognized it as a weapon. "Worry about yourself, slave. You are not the one he was given to." Ziala gestured with her free hand for Aniyn to approach her. Aniyn's body trembled against Emarr's back, but she took a moment to shove a couple of pillows behind his back as she got to her feet, lowering him into a semi-upright position against them. "Stop fussing over him and get over here!" Ziala snapped. "Now, or I will kill him the way I killed that worthless old man you called a husband, and you will not have to worry any more." Aniyn swallowed and stepped away, walking toward Ziala without a backward glance. The boys exchanged a glance before approaching her themselves. Ziala shook her head sharply, gesturing toward them with her blaster. "Not you. Your mother's master was so eager for her he has come to get her in person. I will be back for you two later." Emarr tensed, his blood running cold at her words.No! Not now, not like this- He braced his hands behind him, trying to rise, knowing he would be too slow, knowing he was giving himself away for nothing. Knowing, all the same, that there was no way he could let Aniyn be taken like this and not dosomething- An animal roar of outrage erupted from Nikar's throat. "No!" ===== Emarr's cry came too late, torn from his throat at the same instant that sullen, fatalistic Nikar threw himself headlong at Ziala's chest. Her pistol flashed, and Nikar's battle cry ended in an agonized scream. A scream torn from other throats than his- Still, the stunner bolt was not enough to halt his forward momentum, and Ziala was forced to backstep to avoid being knocked down. It delayed her-but not enough. Emarr made it to his feet, the rage-induced adrenaline rush barely compensating for the lingering effects of the caffeine weakening his body and dulling his reflexes. He took a step toward her, bracing himself for the searing cold of the weapon's kiss, the darkness of oblivion. With his nervous system already compromised by the caffeine's effects, the shot would likely be fatal. Ziala's eyes widened with shock as her brain registered what her eyes were seeing. Her helpless, paralyzed prisoner striding toward her with rage in his eyes. "You-you can't be-" Her pistol swung toward Emarr, its muzzle yawning wide like a portal straight to hell. The shot went wide, bursting uselessly against the wall as Aniyn leaped onto Ziala's back. The Lidaru woman keened and wailed like a banshee in one of Merilee's old New Taran ghost stories. Ziala flailed at her with her free arm, trying to dislodge her. Out of the corner of his eye Emarr could see Jussel crawling across the floor, trying to reach his brother's crumpled form without drawing notice. It stung his heart-and divided his focus. Ziala moved abruptly, ducking and twisting in a move that destroyed Aniyn's balance and knocked her sprawling in the doorway. The pistol swung in Emarr's direction again. Aniyn grabbed at Ziala's leg, jerking her off-balance, only to cry out in agony as Ziala's booted foot came down hard on her fingers. Emarr crossed the remaining distance with a final, desperate lunge. He shoved Ziala's gun hand aside and tackled her, knocking her backward. Her pistol discharged, and Emarr felt the blast against his side-not a hit, but too damn close. He shoved her down hard, groping for the weapon, desperate to get hold of it before she could get a better shot. "Blue Eyes! Now!" He rolled, taking Ziala with him, and hoped Aniyn would have the presence of mind to realize what he wanted her to do. She had already struggled to her feet and now she launched herself at the flailing tangle of limbs on the floor, flinging herself onto Ziala's back. Ziala flailed and kicked, clawed at Emarr's face with her free hand so he had to thrash his head back and forth in a desperate attempt to protect his eyes. She jerked her body, hard, trying to dislodge the woman on top of her, but Aniyn fought like ananaschra. Or like a mother desperate to protect her sons. Emarr dug his fingers into Ziala's wrist, pressing hard against her rapidly beating pulse, determined to cut off her circulation, to break her grip. His hand ached with the effort, but she showed no sign of weakening. Aniyn's arm snaked around Ziala's throat, pulling tight, choking her. Ziala gasped for air, clutching at Aniyn's arm with her free hand, granting Emarr's embattled eyes a needed reprieve. Aniyn held on, her grip tightening. Emarr gave Ziala's gun arm a sudden, hard twist and the weapon came free. Jussel lost no time darting across the floor to grab it and fling it as far from Ziala as his small hands could. It hit the far wall, and went off with a flash of blue-white energy. "Off!" Emarr commanded, and Aniyn released Ziala so suddenly that she tumbled off her back, landing in a tangle of limbs on the floor. Emarr rolled again, pinning Ziala's body under his, his fingers still digging into the wrist of her gun hand, his free hand grabbing at the magni- binders clipped to her belt. He tossed them to the side and went for the hand that had gone back to trying to blind him. "Get those on her," he ordered. "So I can get off her." It was a struggle for Aniyn to get the binders on-Emarr did not dare let go to get his hands out of her way. But she went about it with a grim, fierce determination that made her seem a very different creature from the one who had wept in bed beside him. Finally, she managed. "Now get the weapon," he instructed. "You have seen how she holds it, how it works." "Yes." Aniyn lost no time retrieving the stun pistol and holding it, a little too nervously for comfort, while Emarr got to his feet and hauled Ziala up with him. If her nervousness made him cautious, it surely did the same for Ziala, because she seemed in no hurry to break away from him. Wise woman. His proximity, and the possibility of hitting him by mistake, was probably the only thing preventing Aniyn from trying out her aim. Emarr spun Ziala around and shoved her into the room's single chair before reaching out a hand to Aniyn. "Give me the weapon and then check on the boy." Aniyn complied, not taking her eyes or her aim off of Ziala until Emarr's hand closed over the pistol. Emarr followed her lead, keeping Ziala fixed clearly in his sights even when he heard Aniyn's sharp gasp of surprise when she saw that there was no mark on Nikar. "He should live," Emarr told her without looking back. "It is a-special-weapon. We would be of no value to her dead." "Will he wake?" "He should. We will all be walking out of here, and soon." "Do not be so sure of that," Ziala said. "Hotel security have been well paid to make certain that no one of your race leaves this suite without my personal escort. And in case you have ideas about marching me out with a blaster to my back and a jacket draped over my bound hands, I would like to point out that the security team here does not consist entirely of idiots." "Is hotel security more reliable than that bodyguard of yours?" Emarr asked. "Strange how he has not even come to investigate the weapons fire." Emarr would not have thought the glare in Ziala's eyes could burn any hotter but at Dumal's mention, it managed. Emarr gestured toward Aniyn with his free hand. "I need you to find theKinya- d'sar , and the woman who came here with me. Her name is Jannia. She is pale and very slender, with dark hair-" Ziala laughed with bitter satisfaction. "Your precious Jannia is long gone, back on her own ship waiting for me to decide about a little counter-offer she made me.She will be waiting a long time now, I imagine." That was unexpected. Counter-offer? Nothing like that had been part of the original plan. Of course, neither had her desperate bluff to avoid having to kill him. "Just find theKinya-d'sar , then," Emarr amended. "Bring him here if he is bringable. Ifshe cannot depend upon him, perhaps we can." "But he has betrayed his vows!" Aniyn protested. "He has used his gods-given talents to- -" "To keep you from rash actions such as Nikar's? If he had been the one to come for you, your stepson would still be conscious." "But-" Emarr sighed, and tried again, his voice softer now. "Please, Blue Eyes. We need him." "All right. I am going." CHAPTER 22 ========== Something, some sound, jerked Jannia out of memory's grasp, spilling her back into the present so abruptly she'd have fallen if she weren't already down. She'd gone to her knees as the flashback hit and now she knelt on the clay-slimed floor staring at the ruined remains of Emarr's image, her body wracked with shudders, her eye throbbing so hard she imagined it might burst from her skull.She remembered. She knew enough about the aftermath of trauma to understand that most people who suffered flashbacks experienced them as waking visions too, not just dreams. But other than a generalized feeling of panic when someone touched her, before this past year Jannia had rarely relived the rape except in dreams. A Shian-ru healer she'd seen briefly just after the rape had told her she had an unusual amount of control over her own mind for a non-psionic. Enabling her to keep the waking visions at bay most of the time-but also rendering it impossible for the healer to treat her. She wouldn't let him in. Until Emarr, she'd never let anyone in. This memory-even in dreams she'd long managed to resist it. Part of her-most of her-hadn't wanted that image of Gandes in pain. Of Gandes shattered and broken, a pathetic victim of his own machinations, lying there beside her as he faced the bitter truth that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that would dull the edge of his terrible need. That he'd brought it on himself didn't matter. Not in that moment. She'd seen what it did to him, how he suffered, and even still torn and bleeding from the brutal way he'd taken her innocence, part of her had pitied him. Remembering it now, some small part of her still did. The sound that had brought her back to reality began again, an insistent, irritating chirp it took her several seconds to recognize as the audio signal on her cabin door's comm panel. She seldom used the audio, having a profound dislike of sudden loud noises, but she'd enabled it tonight, knowing she'd have her back to the panel and not daring to miss the flashing light that she usually preferred. She got up and answered. "Wise, Captain,Ice Dagger." The voice on the other end belonged to Ryan O'Hare. He did not sound happy. "Wise, we have a problem." "What? Is it Ziala? Is she on the move?" A horrible thought occurred to her. "She got past you, didn't she? She got past you and she's gone." "She didn't get past me. Dammit, Wise, do you think I'm incompetent now as well as self-centered? She hasn't shown at all. She's behind schedule, and I'm getting worried." "Behindwhat schedule?" Jannia frowned. "We don't have a schedule." "Um, yeah, we do. I mean I do. I mean, my client does, anyway-" "Your client? What does your bloody client have to do with Ziala?" "He had business with her. Nothing to do with his business with me, and I only found out about it just now. He just called me, roaring drunk and mad enough to spit engine plasma, to explain why he was going to be a little late dropping off the stuff he wants me to deliver. At least I'm assuming that the 'whore who was supposed to deliver his own personal psychic slut' was probably Ziala." "Your client sounds really charming." "Actually, when he hired me he did. Of course, he wasn't mad and drunk then." "Doesn't your client have some way of contacting Ziala himself?" Jannia asked before remembering, with a grimace, who they were dealing with. "No, don't tell me. All she gave him was a time and place to meet." "You have contact info, don't you?" "Yeah, but I told her 'Call me; I won't call you.'" "Youwhat?" Ryan's voice skipped incredulous and went straight to accusatory. "And you have the nerve to condemn me for having abandoned my partner? I thought he was already dead. What's your excuse?" "It seemed like a good idea for about a minute and a half. And waffling on it afterwarddidn't seem like a good idea." It still didn't, really. No matter what might have gone wrong with the plan, the endgame still made sense. Wait until Ziala left the hotel, until she approached the ship, and strike then. Not before. Going back, trying to make a direct strike against Ziala in territory she controlled, with only Ryan O'Hare for backup, would be suicide. Jannia would be no help to Emarr dead. And if things did go as badly as she was starting to fear they might, her death wasn't what she owed him. He'd asked her for a promise, a promise it didn't matter anymore that she'd technically withheld. If it ended up being his last request- "You're not just going to leave him in there without some idea of what's going on," Ryan insisted. "You know what Ziala's like, what she's capable of. You know where we are-" Jannia wished she were speaking to Ryan's face so she could grab him and shake him. "Do you think I'm happy about that? I hate not knowing what's going on. What's happening to Emarr. But without knowing what's going on, how do we know anything we do on our end won't just make the situation worse? Remember Aden's role in that fiasco on Kethry?" "You mean you actually admit someone besides me screwed up there?" "Drop it, O'Hare. Believe it or not, there are some things in the universe that aren't about you. Just stay where you are, and do what I tell you. The endgame doesn't change until I say it does." * * * Aniyn took a long time to return with Dumal, and when she did she seemed a little more charitably disposed toward him. Possibly because of the magni-binders still holding his hands locked together behind his back. Emarr took a moment to study the man who had shared Ziala's bed, functioned as her bodyguard and kept her stock of slaves from getting themselves killed before delivery. He looked like any other Lidaru male except for the tailored servant's uniform. "I almost did not find him," Aniyn said. "The room he was in was enchanted somehow, so I could not sense that anyone lay within. But there was another room, one with pictures that moved, and it showed him, in a room, in restraints-I checked every room until I found him." "Not enchantments, Blue Eyes. Psi shielding. It is made from a combination of metals and other man-made materials." She frowned as if she did not believe him. "He was as Nikar is. Alive, but he would not wake. I was about to go back and tell you when he began to stir." "Thank you, Blue Eyes. Now please take Jussel into the main room-the one with the fire-and wait for us there." "What about Nikar?" "He should wake soon. For now, it is easiest not to move him." Aniyn nodded and went to Jussel's side where he huddled near his brother's motionless body. She put her arm around his small shoulders and guided him away. When she was gone, Emarr addressed the other man. "Kinya Dumal." Dumal angled his head in Emarr's direction in acknowledgement and said nothing. "My partner, Jannia, says you are under some sort of vow of silence." Dumal nodded. "It is probably pointless to ask you to explain why." The only reply was an archly raised brow. "Unfortunate, since I cannot communicate empathically with you right now either. And I have questions. We-the woman, the boys and I-mean to leave this place. More than that, we mean to go home. I know something has happened, and recently, to cost you Ziala's trust. The condition in which the woman found you tells me that much. And we both know Ziala's trust is not lightly given, or easily regained. But I do not care whether or notshe can trust you. I need to know if I can. You areKinya-d'sar. Your gifts are strong, and may be of use to us. I know it is not possible to truly take her will away-" "Of course it isn't!" Ziala scoffed angrily. "Do you think the woman would have found him in binders if he could control me? There isn't an empath alive who-" Dumal made a quick, slicing movement with his hand and Ziala's tirade ended with an abrupt, startled squeak. "He asked me," Dumal said coldly in a voice hoarse from disuse, but no less imperious for that. "Not you." So he chooses this moment to break his silence. Interesting. A turning point, clearly, but in what direction? Emarr looked down at Ziala's wide-eyed, silently glaring form with a strange sense of unease. He had found an ally, one who looked like he just might be capable of what it would take to get them out of here in one piece. He should be pleased about that. But there was something about the dark satisfaction in Dumal's eyes and the increasingly panicked one in Ziala's-something that made him squirm inside. "As you can see, Ican control her," Dumal said. "Yes, even force my will upon her, though I cannot truly be said to have taken hers away. Her will is stillthere, and it is strong. Mine is simply stronger." "She can resist you, then." A part of him almost hoped for a positive answer. Escape would be easier if she could not, but the repercussions- This man was as Akaril would be. A fully grownKinya-d'sar, with his empathic powers at their full, mature strength.And he could control a woman's mind. "She cantry to resist," Dumal said. "I am not exerting full control at the moment-it requires extreme concentration. But I can do it, at least with her. I have spent the past four years in deep intimate contact, learning my way around the pathways of her mind, and she has allowed it. I know her every desire, her every fear, the very shape of her heart and will. I have been practicing a long time-in her bed, mostly, when she would drop her defenses and allow my domination for the sake of the pleasure and pain we could share. It was necessary to ensure her dependence, to make her keep me with her. I opened myself to her also, laid my spirit bare, let her twist it into the sick form of her own in order to earn her trust, to gain access to the deepest corners of her soul so that when the time came-" His gaze moved from Ziala to Emarr. "Ithas come, has it not? The child your woman spoke of. The one you found. It is Akaril?" Shock struck Emarr full in the chest, feeling not unlike a strike from the weapon in his hand. Shock, and a stunned disbelief that faded almost immediately into a profound sense of inevitability. Of destiny at work. Of course this man would be connected to Akaril somehow. The gods had guided Emarr to him just as they had to her. To reunite them. "You know her?" It took everything in him to keep the anguish out of his voice, the grief of impending loss. He had known he would have to give her up, but never before had the knowledge seemed so real. So immediate. And suddenly, unexpectedly, so wrong. "We were taken together," Dumal said. "She was a little, toddling thing, only recently moved up from the cloister's nursery and still going back at night to suckle at her mother's breast. The elders assigned me to work with her on her first centering lessons-to teach me patience, they said. I would work with her at a sacred spring deep in the forest, where she would not distract herself. For she was a distractible child, always seeking contact with the minds of others when she should have been learning the paths of her own. "One day a woman approached us, dressed in strange clothes, with hair of fire and skin like milk, and her spirit so cool and bright, so hard to see into. I thought her a goddess at first. She took me to her lodge-to her ship, and the child with us, and I put the child in an empty bed and let the woman bring me to hers. She said she had chosen me for her consort, and the child for her handmaiden. And may the gods forgive me, I let myself believe her. I could have looked deeper, learned the dark flavor of her mind, the treacheries of her soul, but I did not. Not then. "When I awoke, the ship was far from our world, the child locked away where I could not even sense her any more. I never saw her again. I thought, at first, that the woman had killed her. It was only later, when she went back to collect more of our kind, that I realized the truth. That the child Akaril had been sold as a slave-that a slave was what I had become. I vowed then that I would find a way to take control. To find and retrieve the child. The woman knew where she was, so I must remain with the woman, must earn her trust, learn how to get past the veils shrouding her inner self, and she had already given me a clue as to how that might be accomplished. I shared her bed, learned her ways of pleasure, and worked my way, slowly and carefully, into her mind. But one thing, just one, I held back to remind me of who I am. Of my real goal. Though I shared the woman's bed, though I joined my spirit nightly with hers, still I would never speak her name. Not a word would I speak until I knew the child was safe and free. And I have kept that vow until now. I had meant to keep it until my gaze fell once more on the child's face, but the face of the man who freed her in my place will do." "A fire freed her," Emarr corrected. "I was simply blessed to find her afterward." Dumal acknowledged the clarification with a nod. "But she is safe, soon she will be back in my care. Our ordeal is almost at an end." Emarr swallowed. Ziala's trusted slave, her four-years bedmate, was Akaril's assigned mentor. A man who had willingly allowed his mind to be shaped by the darkness in Ziala's. And now he wanted the child back? No. Gods, no.Dread flooded Emarr's heart, and he thanked the gods that the remaining effects of the tea on his nervous system rendered him unreadable.I know she was never mine to keep, but how can I give her over to him?To be guided into the fullness of her gifts by a mind so tainted-I cannot allow it. But now was certainly not the time to tell Dumal that. "Bring the woman," Emarr said, "and I will bring the boy. It is time." CHAPTER 23 ========== Jannia was sitting on the bridge, thinking dark thoughts about shopping for little girls' mourning clothes, when the comm light on the pilot's console started blinking again. She tried to suppress the sharp surge of anticipation, the hope thatthis time, it would be Ziala on the other end, apologizing for taking so long to get back to her. It was probably just Ryan. Again. "Wise, Captain,Ice Dagger ." Jannia's finger hovered over the disconnect key, ready to cut off her ally-in-waiting if he made one more attempt to convince her to charge into Ziala's hotel with blasters blazing. He'd called four times in the last hour with non-updates that turned into lectures on how shecouldn't just sit there. She understood his impatience and frustration. There was no one who could possibly understand it better. But she wasn't ready to- "Jannia." She stared down at the console in disbelief. There was only one voice in the galaxy that pronounced her name that way, low and rich; a simple, straightforward label transformed into an endearment on his tongue. But it wasn't possible. It was Ziala's doing, some cruel trick. Just another stupid, sick game. She wasn't going to fall for some pieced-together recording of- "Jannia?" The voice sounded more tentative this time, and edged with concern. "Are you there?" "I'm here. If this is a trick, it's not a very good one. I know how long caffeine paralysis lasts. Three to four days. It hasn't been two. If this is your way of trying to trick me into acting all happy and gushy to hear from him, Ziala-" "I didintend to be paralyzed longer, my love. You might say that the spirit was willing, but the tea was weak." Jannia swallowed convulsively. If it was a trick, she'd just revised her opinion of it. It was actually a damned good one. "Last time I use that black tea Tami left." "It was green tea, and Gandes left it, and the last time we made love you had clay on your hands. It is not a trick, Jannia, and you are not dreaming. I am on my way home to you." Jannia's heart did a strange little dance. God, she liked the way he'd phrased that. But how in the hell- "We will speak in person soon. I only wished to let you know that I am all right. I know, if our positions were reversed-" "Just shut up and get back here. I need you." Jannia winced as she terminated the connection. She hadn't meant to say that last part. It had just slipped out. Maybe it was true, maybe he even already knew it, but still-over an open comm line. With who-knew-who listening. Dumal, maybe. Or even Ziala. Didn't she have any dignity at all? She laughed out loud at that. Emarr was free and mobile and on his way back to her. Who gave a flying fart about dignity? She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer of thanks, not really sure who she was thanking. And sat back to endure more waiting. She wouldn't really feel whole again until she could see him. Until she could touch him. The comm light flashed again, and she answered without preamble. "Stand down, O'Hare. It's all over." * * * "So you just walked out." Ryan O'Hare shook his head in disbelief. He and Emarr were sitting in the unnecessarily spacious lounge on Ziala's ship, sipping overpriced brandy from Ziala's private stores while Aniyn got her sons settled in bunks in the crew quarters and Jannia oversaw Dumal's attempts to coerce the homeworld's location from Ziala. Emarr knew it was necessary, but had no desire to watch the process. Whatever Ziala had done, whatever she was, she was still a sentient being, and having control of her own mind subverted was- "With Wise and I back here tearing our hair out, imagining a thousand horrible things that could be happening to you, you just walked out. I can't believe-" Emarr turned his focus back to his former partner. "It was hardly that simple, Master. A boy was shot. I had to grapple with Ziala for her weapon while I was still weak from the tea-it took two of us to get it from her. I had to place my fate in the hands of an ally that even now I cannot entirely bring myself to trust. Why do you think Jannia is with him? His vow of silence may be broken, but I do not know if his bond with Ziala is. A bond he formed deliberately, willingly. It took me a year to break the one she createdwithout my consent. I-" "You think they should be separated?" Ryan suggested. "There's plenty of room on my ship. I can take one of them. I can take what's-her-name and the boys, too, if you and Wise want privacy-" Emarr shook his head. "They speak no Galactic. They will be much more comfortable here, with me. The cabin Ziala used for what she termed 'volatile cargo' is psi-shielded, so it should provide all the privacy we will need." Warm tendrils of anticipation curled inside him. It would be several days, still, until his body recovered enough to make love to Jannia, but the wait would be worth it. He did not need his empathic gifts to see that something had changed about Jannia in the short time-had it really been only one night?--that they had been separated. Something had happened with her, something he had so far had no opportunity to ask her about. It had become immediately apparent that theIce Dagger was not big enough for seven people, not when one of them had to be secured, another, whose true loyalties Emarr was still not entirely convinced of, watched carefully, and the others- Emarr had immediately rejected the only accommodations Jannia had been able to offer Aniyn and her sons. They were not cargo. They would never be cargo again. They deserved comfort, and privacy and proper beds. He knew Jannia had prepared the best guest accommodations her small ship had to offer, but still- Besides, Ziala would no longer need her shiny new ship where she was going. TheFringe Benefits could be legitimately considered spoils of war. So he and Jannia had spent the best part of the day moving in, securing the ship's seething former owner. Finding clothes and personal items for their guests. Desperately seeking appropriate foods to feed seven mouths on the long voyage to Kethry. And making a hundred other small preparations for their temporary status as a full-blown household. "Why do these sorts of adventures always seem to end with a game of musical ships?" he mused, thinking of Merilee. How had she managed on Kilborne's ship, trying to accustom herself to piloting its unnecessarily cumbersome mass while juggling the various needs of two incompatible empaths and a disturbed hybrid-not to mention that hybrid's father, now technically a prisoner on his own ship? He was starting to feel a twinge of sympathy for exactly what he had asked of her. "Okay, it makes sense that the woman and the kids stay with you. What about Ziala? I'm sure it can't be comfortable having her on board. Meri's old cabin makes a great brig in a pinch. I can-" "Not Ziala." The words were out of his mouth before the thought behind them had even fully formed. "The man. Dumal. The others cannot forget how Ziala used him to control them, how-seriously-he took that role. His presence disturbs them. And I-" "And you what, Emarr?" "And I do not want you to take him to Kethry. At least, not directly. I want you to delay him, keep him away long enough to make sure I get there first. I intend for Akaril to be long gone before he arrives. He was her mentor, Ryan. He was supposed to take care of her, and instead he let Ziala sell her into slavery. She was fortunate to end up with someone who at least tried to take decent care of her. "Yes, Dumal came up with a plan to try and get the child back, but how? By becoming part of Ziala's operation, taking an active role in helping her enslave others. The woman has been telling me some interesting things about how he treated them. Like lesser beings. Animals. Yes, he cared about getting Akaril back. She is like him. AKinya-d'sar. A higher being, closer to the gods, worthier. I do not know if he felt that way at first, but he does now. He has dedicated the last four years to getting Akaril back, and he has not cared who he had to use or hurt to do it. Now he means to take her from me, and I cannot allow it. She needs-" A loud, throat-clearing sound interrupted Emarr's next words. He turned to see Jannia standing in the doorway, her thin, beautiful face looking haggard and tired and not a little reproachful. "She needs a father who knows enough to keep his mouth shut where her would-be mentor might overhear him. You're lucky he didn't." Emarr winced. She was right. He had instinctively believed he would be able to sense Dumal's approach, to change the subject before he had a chance to overhear. He had forgotten his condition, a lapse that could easily have proved disastrous. "Has Ziala-" Jannia shook her head. "She's proving a lot more resistant than we'd expected. Forcing obedience to a simple physical command like 'shut up and walk' is one thing, but I guess coercing mental functions is harder. If Ziala refuses to think about the location of your homeworld, she can't be made to speak of it. Dumal's still working on it. I had to leave. Watching him, seeing her face-I know what she is, what she's done, but what he's doing to her is too-too much-" Her voice wavered, cracked. "Too much like rape?" Emarr said softly. "I am sorry. I should have realized. I would not have asked you to monitor the process had I-" She waved away his apology. "I'm okay. I know it's necessary. I know she's done worse to others and enjoyed it, and I know we need those coordinates if we're going to get your people home. I just can't watch. That's all." She looked over at Ryan. "Will you? Please?" She didn't reiterate what he had been asked to do. "Will the pair of you promise never to mention Kethry again if I do?" Emarr and Jannia exchanged a glance. When Emarr spoke, it was for both of them. "I think that would be a small price to pay." * * * "Dumal. Enough." When theKinya-d'sar did not react immediately, Emarr took hold of his arm and physically pulled him away from Ziala's side. "Enough, I said. Her resistance could hold for hours yet, and there other things that need to be done." "Andas." Emarr frowned at the non sequitur. "Did you hear-" "My name is Andas. I am properly addressed asKinya Andas. Dumal is the name of a pet, a mindless animal, and I will no longer be answering to it." Emarr nodded acknowledgement. "Kinya Andas, then. Let this woman hold onto her secrets for now if it pleases her. We have plenty of time. And if we cannot get the homeworld's location from her lips we can get it from her ship. Somewhere, deep in her computer's memory, is the location of every world this ship has visited, and I know just the person to pry it out. There is no reason to exhaust yourself. Or to prolong contact with a mind of whose taints you need to cleanse yourself. Your gifts are from the gods. They are meant to comfort, to heal. This-" Emarr's sweeping gesture encompassed the cargo hold's bare metal walls, the narrow, bolted- down cot to which Ziala was secured, hand and foot, with the same binders she had used on Andas and Aniyn. "This is not what you are meant for." "You," Andas said contemptuously, "have no idea what I am meant for. You are empty, your spirit silent, more silent than those of these Human creatures. What could you possibly know of the destiny of aKinya-d'sar?" "My silent soul is a temporary condition. And if there is one thing I have learned from Humans, it is that the power of one's spirit has little to do with how well it intertwines with others. The finest souls I have encountered have possessed not a trace of psionic talent." "Your woman is remarkable, I will grant you that," Andas conceded. "But these are still lesser beings. There are times, thinking back to the way I mistook this one for a goddess-" He shook his head in bitter self-contempt. "I gave a sacred child, a daughter of the gods, into her hands. A child special even for one of us. When she is grown-" He shook his head again. "This woman must pay for what she has done." "And she will. But not at your hands. She has tainted you enough. I want you away from her." Andas looked at Emarr coldly. "Who do you think you are, issuing orders to one you should be bowing down to?" "The adoptive father of the child you plan to reclaim. If you are to be her mentor again, she needs your mind pure, cleansed of the taint of this woman's mind. You need time away from her, time alone, to meditate and find your own true self again. Deep inside you must know this." Andas's eyes narrowed. He studied Emarr's calm face, as though seeking in it some hint as to what was going on below the surface. "Why do you resist the idea so?" Emarr asked. "Surely you must want to be rid of her. Or has your association with her affected you more deeply than you want to admit? Have you branded her soul so deeply on yours that you cannot bear to leave her? Binders can be taken off, but if you are still her slave in your mind-" "My mind was never slave to hers! She is a Human, a soulless animal. I am a son of the gods!" "Then prove it. Walk off this ship and leave the woman to me. You can travel with my friend; it is his sister who is watching the child. If you are too far gone to manage this-" "I will travel with your friend, Emarr Dengas. But only because the stench of your self- righteousness disgusts me. The woman told me much of you. Your current state may be temporary, but your spirit has always been weak, your control non-existent. You dare look at me and question my fitness to take the child? You are so far beneath us, she and I, that you should count yourself blessed I do not kill you for daring to name yourself her father!" He stalked from the cargo bay with a haughty, feline grace that made Emarr muse darkly about just who was the animal here. An observation Ziala echoed with bitter amusement. "Now you know why I named him after my cat." * * * "Are they gone, then?" Jannia looked up at Emarr from her prone position on the lounge's obscenely plush sofa and nodded her head. Part of her wanted to get up, to go to him, to put her arms around him and kiss him until his knees buckled. Another part acknowledged that getting up would be too damn much effort. If he wanted her kisses he could damn well come get them. "You look exhausted." His voice was low and soft and sounded more than a little weary itself. "I didn't sleep much last night." "You never sleep much. This is more." "Okay, I didn't sleep at all. Are you surprised? I thought I'd made a horrible mistake. Thrown you to the sharks. I thought-" She closed her eyes, and her mouth. She didn't want to talk about what she'd thought. Didn't want to think about it any more. He crossed the room and sat down beside her, squeezing as much of his hip as he could in the narrow space left between her body and the sofa's edge. "You made no mistake. You played to Ziala's weaknesses, and it worked. You drove a wedge between her and the only being she trusted, made it necessary for her to come for the woman herself. Forced Du-" He stopped himself. "Forced Andas to tip his hand in our time, not in his. You were perfect." She shook her head ruefully. "No. I was desperate, and lucky. It was getting obvious that my strategy of trying to out-Ziala Ziala wasn't working. At that point I would have tried anything-" "What did you tell her?" "The truth. Just the truth. And lots of it. About Dumal-Andas-and the way he was trying to play us off each other. About Silas and Taben. Even about just how muchthis sickened me." She raised a trembling hand to gesture vaguely at the scabbed-over cuts on his chest. "And then I raised the stakes. Full partnership or nothing." Emarr stiffened. Pulled back. Stared at her. She grimaced. "That was my reaction, too. I knew I'd gone too far the moment I spoke, but it was too late to call it back." "You had not gone too far," he said after a long pause. "You said, and did, exactly what you needed to. It worked, Jannia. Am I not here? Is Ziala not chained to a bed on her own ship? Are Niatem and her sons not safe and free?" "Niatem?" "The woman's callname, to be spoken by men other than a husband or lover. It means, 'Blue Eyes'." "How descriptive." A thought occurred to her. "What does Kinrai mean?" Emarr's lip twitched in a gesture Jannia knew all too well. Something trying not to be a smile. "Who so named you?" "The little guy. Jussel. What does it mean, Emarr?" "It means 'Pale One'." This time, he let the smile come. Jannia closed her eyes and groaned. "I should have known." "Shall I give the boys another name for you, then? Something more flattering?" Jannia shook her head. "No. Might hurt the kid's feelings. I'll live with it." She held out a hand to him. "Help me up. I'm bone tired, and we still need to fly ourselves and our guests-willing and otherwise-off this damn planet. And when that's done, I need a bed. A big, soft one, with you in it." He frowned down at her, frustration and regret in his eyes. "You know I cannot-not yet-" "You think I care? You can hold me, can't you? Be with me? Talk to me? Do you really think sex is all I want from you?" "What do you want from me, then?" His voice was soft, deep. His eyes were dark and searching and full of love and hope. "Just you, Emarr. I just want you. You don't know how it felt when I-" "Ssshhh." He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. Gently. Sweetly. "I am here. Always. You are my destiny, remember?" "Your exhausted destiny." He grinned down at her, a flash of triumph in his eyes. She tried to summon a little righteous irritation, but it was too damn much effort. Instead she put out her hand again and let him pull her to her feet. "Are you certain you want to stay?" Emarr asked her as they walked to the bridge. "Abandon your ship here? You could rest tonight on theDagger, and follow later." She shook her head. "You know I want to stay and you know why. We're not finished. With everything that's happened, with Rogai, with Ziala, we've managed to sleep together a grand total of twice. No, scratch that. We've made love twice. We've never actuallyslept together." They reached the bridge, and she collapsed bonelessly into the copilot's chair, letting him take the helm. In her current state she didn't trust herself to plot a course. "I can come back later to pick up theDagger , or sell her, or whatever I decide to do. Right now it's more important to be with you." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "Something's happened, Emarr. I remembered..." There was more to the thought, of course, but continuing would mean a deep, serious conversation, and she didn't think her tired mind was up for it. There would be time. Between now and Kethry, there would be lots of time. "I can see I will be carrying you to bed later," Emarr said, his tone softly teasing. Jannia felt a drowsy smile tugging at her lips. "You do that." CHAPTER 24 ========== Jannia never knew when Emarr finished plotting their course and entered hyperspace, never felt him take her into his arms and carry her to their bed. It was much later when something-not a dream, not flashback, not even the insistent call of a full bladder-tugged her insistently and none too gently from her sleep. Emarr, she noted with a fond smile, had assumed the position-curled against her, his broad, strong chest sheltering her back, his arms around her, holding her close. She could feel his slow, steady breathing, his bare chest expanding and contracting against her bare back- He'd undressed her, she realized, and it hadn't awakened her. That was how tired she had been. Now she lay in his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers, inhaling his rich, wild scent-he had not taken the time to shower before joining her in bed, and for the first time she noticed that his sweat carried a faint, barely perceptible balsam scent. She suppressed an uncharacteristic urge to giggle. Her lover smelled like a tree. For a few moments she just lay there, enjoying the warmth of him, the feel of him. The knowledge that where she was right now was the same place she would be tomorrow, and the next night, and the next. It felt good. It felt right. Jannia would have loved to just lie there, awake in his arms, forever, but thesomething that had awoken her tugged insistently at her attention. She was hungry. No, she amended as she gently and carefully extricated herself from Emarr's arms. Hungry wasn't the right word. Not strong enough. She was ravenous. She counted back the hours in her mind as she pulled on her clothes and realized it had been over forty-eight of them since she'd last eaten. Not since before she'd approached Emarr on the bridge of theIce Dagger and asked to sculpt him. And she'd been eating even worse than usual for days before that- She had never gone this long without food before, but it was more than that. She didn't just need to eat. She wanted to. Thoughts of things she'd like to eat played temptingly in her mind, making her mouth water in sensual anticipation. She wanted- She was scowling at the meal processor's menu screen in wistful disappointment, having just about resigned herself to an uninspired vegetable stew, when Jussel found her. He stumbled sleepily into the lounge, rubbing at his eyes, his lower body covered in loose sleeping pants and his rather bony chest bare. "Kinrai," he mumbled by way of greeting. "That's me." She entered the code for the stew she wanted, still with wistful thoughts of fresh fish and steamed greens tormenting her imagination. She gestured toward the processor, and question in her eyes, and Jussel nodded. Surprisingly, she found herself enjoying her meal. It wasn't the fresh fare she'd been craving, but the flavor was nice, and so was the company. They ate in companionable silence in the darkened lounge, Jussel sitting beside Jannia on the long bench, his hip touching hers even though there was plenty of room to spread out. She found she didn't mind. Emarr was right about her, she mused. She did like children. When she went to the bridge to check on their course, he followed her, taking the copilot's seat beside her, watching everything she with did such avid fascination in his eyes it brought a smile to her lips. She started talking to him, keeping up a steady monologue about everything she was doing, feeling only a little bit foolish knowing he couldn't understand a single word.Mothers must talk to their babies this way- Jannia shook her head slowly, drawing a curious glance from her companion. A skinny, half-grown boy who had gone straight from a locked room in a luxury hotel to a ridiculously clean starship and still somehow managed to have dirt under his fingernails. Hardly a baby. There would be no babies for her-Emarr couldn't give her one, and she wasn't sure she'd know what to do with one if he did. Children who could already walk and talk and use the sanitory by themselves were one thing- One of those, Emarr could give her. A little girl she'd already grown fond of. That prospect didn't scare her-well, okay, it did scare her. But it tempted her, too. Akaril was a great kid. A special kid. Atalented kid, one who was going to need a mother she couldn't walk all over with that subtle, unconsciousinfluence of hers. Jannia shivered. The therapist she'd seen did say she had an unusual amount of control over her own mind. She was almost exactly what Akaril would need. If she didn't know better, she'd swear it was- "Good morning, Destiny." Emarr's voice was low, teasing, sexy as he leaned in the doorway behind her. She turned to look at him and frowned. He had found a shirt somewhere on board, left behind, no doubt, by Andas, and he had it buttoned all the way up to the collar, hiding the marks Ziala had put on him. The marks Jannia had put on him. It was a nice shirt, of a silky indigo-dyed fabric that contrasted attractively with his skin color, and she hated it. "Good morning, smug bastard," she replied with a forced grin. "Had breakfast yet?" "When inviting you to eat with me is the only way to get you to eat at all? I was waiting for-" "I ate with Juicy, here." She reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. "Woke up hungry." This time, her grin was wholly genuine as she took in his expression-an endearing combination of surprise, joy and disappointment. "Don't worry, I'll join you. I could use a cup ofdasu." She got to her feet. "Then I guess my gender and my blaster win me the coveted honor of taking Ziala to the sanitory-" * * * There was definitely something different about Jannia now, Emarr mused, reclining on their bed and watching her renewed and much more patient efforts to sculpt him. It was not just her appetite, though the pleasure he had gained at lunch, watching her actually enjoying her food, almost made up for the pangs of guilt and regret he had experienced as he watched her with Jussel. She had seemed so at ease with him, so content, so natural. The way she had ruffled his hair-she had done the same with Akaril. Had even hugged her. An affectionate, casual touch from a woman who had cringed atanyone's touch just weeks before. She had come so far. Grown so much. Her fondness for children was just one part of theJannia finally emerging from behind her crumbling, melting walls, but it was the one part that- "My, that's a pensive expression," Jannia commented, frowning slightly as she made a careful adjustment to clay-Emarr's shape. "Worried about Ryan, or missing Akaril?" "A little of both," he prevaricated. Neither subject was ever far from his mind, after all. "And-wondering." "Wondering?" "About the changes in you since we left Mercala. Your appetite. This." He gestured toward the almost-completed sculpture. "You sleep better at night-" "I was exhausted last night, Emarr, you know that. I can't think of anything that could have kept me awake. I still woke up before you." "But you did not wake up frightened. You woke up hungry." "Forty-eight hours without food will do that." He shook his head. "You know it is more. You began to tell me, last night-" She shook her head. "Not now. Later. I can't focus on this and on that. It's-" She gave another quick, sharp shake of her head. "Later," she repeated, and went back to work. * * * She told him that night as she lay in his arms in their bed-the destruction of her first attempt at sculpting him, and the vision, the memory, it had triggered. She just lay there and let the words come as Emarr stroked her hair and whispered soft, meaningless words of encouragement when she faltered. The memory had been a turning point, a revelation. Telling Emarr about it now, sharing with another what she'd so long refused to acknowledge even to herself, was freeing in a way she could never before have imagined. But that didn't make it easy. It didn't make it easy at all. The words dammed up in her throat, and her eyes stung, and tears rolled down her cheeks. But she didn't stop. Once she'd started, she couldn't have stopped if she'd wanted to. And when she finished, Emarr just held her in silence, his chin resting against her hair, his body trembling with emotion at what she'd revealed. "I don't thinkforgive is the right word," she said softly, some time later. "I still hate what he did. But I understand more, now. How it happened. Why he did it. I always thought, or wanted to think, that it was just about revenge. It never occurred to me that he might not have been planning it at all. That it may have just-happened. That-" She drew in a deep ragged breath. "I know he was a bastard. I know the things he did before that, and afterward. But I think I was an accident. I also think-I think that was the moment when he went over the edge. When he rolled over and looked at me, saw what he'd done-he looked broken. Anguished. I think on some level, in that moment, he was sorry. He was crying. Harder than I was, I think. Then-" "He asked you your name, and you would not tell him. You said-" She laughed mirthlessly. "The wrong thing, apparently." "Gods, Jannia. You cannot possibly blame yourself for-" She shook her head. "I don't. It was his fault, all of it, for trying to make Vaia stay with him when she didn't want to. For keeping her isolated so long she had no choice but to-be with him. But he didn't know about the pheromone thing. About the bonding, and what that would mean. He brought it all on himself. That doesn't change the fact that it was as much a tragedy for him as for anyone. "So I don't forgive him, exactly. But I'm not going to waste any more of my life hating him, either. He's dead. It's over. All of it." "All?" "If you're talking about Aden and Vaia, forgiving them was the easy part. They never lied to me about Gandes-they warned me about him repeatedly, in fact. So what if they left me alone, on a supposedly safe station, for one night?I was the one who opened the hatch, in spite of every warning Vaia ever gave me. But I guess blaming them was easier than taking any of the blame on myself-" "You were not to blame!" Jannia winced at the anger in Emarr's voice. "Stop saying that! Nothing you could have done would-" "Hold your fire, Emarr. Idid open the hatch." She turned in his arms so that she faced him now, burrowing into the shelter of his body, resting her face against his chest where she could feel his heart beating against her cheek. "I'm not going to start hating myself for it, if that's what you're worried about. I'm not going to hate anyone. I'm finished." He reached down to cup her chin, raised her face to meet his gaze. "Does this mean I do not get to watch you feed Ziala her uterus with hot sauce?" Jannia laughed. "Damn. I knew there was something I meant to do before we left Mercala." * * * Was it wrong, Emarr wondered later as he lay watching Jannia sleep, to want to make love to her one last time before he told her? Just once. That was all he asked. She was ready now, truly ready as she had not been the first time. He could feel it in the trusting way her body rested against his, in the long, slow, tender kiss she had shared with him just before settling in to sleep. She had let go of the last thing holding her back. She would not need his calming influence to help her past the fear, and no deep, guilty secrets of her own would stand in the way of the pleasure he knew he could give her. One perfect, if purely physical, joining, to prove to her she was truly healed. That she could be with any man she wanted. He knew, even though she loved him now, that she had chosen him at first primarily because as an empath, he could help her past the fear. But he had always wanted more for her. He wanted to be with her more than anything, but he wanted her to have choices, too. To be able to make love with an ordinary, Human man if- He resisted the urge to shy away from the thought. The idea of his beloved Jannia with any other man was so painful his heart could barely stand it, but if it turned out she could not accept what had to be...if she rejected him because of it... He needed to know. He had never intended to awaken her heart and her body only to leave her alone, knowing what it was to love, to want, but unable to share that with any other man. But damn it, the idea of making love to her again with that secret still between them felt wrong too. Damn his traitorous body, anyway. It had shaken off the paralysis in a matter of hours, but he had known going in he would have a long wait before- He was making excuses, and he knew it. Their lovemaking had not been what healed her. She had done that herself. He had not even been present when she remembered what had happened between the rape and what came after-she had been alone, had faced it alone, had come to the realization of what it meant alone. He could not help thinking, now, that had he been there and in full possession of his talents he would have stopped it. Because he would not have been able to bear watching her go through it. He would have calmed her, soothed her, drawn her back to the present, the moment he felt her fear. Oh, he had helped. But every step he had helped her with she had chosen to take on her own. She had always been the one to come to him-on Beckhaven, on Settlan, on theDagger after Norhei. What had he actually done, other than simplybe there? Perhaps it was all he had ever been meant to do. And in the end, even that had not been necessary. Healing her had not been his destiny. It had been hers. And she had done it. In the morning he would tell her. CHAPTER 25 ========== Of course it was not that easy-if easy were even a word that could be applied. Jannia was gone when Emarr woke, a state of affairs he should have expected. Would there ever be a time when he woke up in a bed that still had Jannia in it? He rose and dressed, covering the healing marks on his chest with another of Andas's old shirts, and went looking for her. He should have known he would find her with the boy. Jussel had followed her around like a small dog all of yesterday, learning Galactic words for things and involving himself in everything she did. He would have followed her into their cabin yesterday evening to watch her sculpt Emarr if his mother had not put her foot down, and still, he had not been appeased until Jannia promised him, with Emarr translating, that tomorrow she would lethim try his hand at the clay. That was how he found them, in the lounge, with a cargo tarp spread over the floor to protect the carpet and sculpting tools spread all over the cloth-draped table. Judging from the amount of accumulated mess, they had been at it for some time. No wonder they got along so well. The boy was a kindred spirit. A fellow insomniac. "We are going to need that table for breakfast, you know," he chided softly. Jannia flashed him a quick grin. "I thought we'd have a picnic on the floor. Come see what Juicy's working on." He stepped closer to take a look. The boy had molded a flat, square base and was now adorning it with swirls and spirals made from clay rolled into long noodle-shapes between his hands. The edges of the base-which Emarr assumed was destined to be some sort of plaque, was scored with a pattern of five-pointed stars not unlike the one that itched under Emarr's shirt. He met Jannia's gaze. She winced, shrugged and looked away. "It'shis design. I guess some symbols are universal. I think the plaque represents his journey. Stars for realspace, swirls for hyperspace." She turned to the boy. "Going to put a ship on there, Juice? Ship?" She gestured around her. He nodded vigorously and reached for more clay. "He's pretty good," Jannia said with a fond, proud grin. "Got an eye for composition." "Where are the others?" "Nik's still in bed. He's got the whole teenage sleep-till-noon thing going on. Aniyn's feeding the prisoner." "Is that wise? She might try something-" "I think Ziala's in more danger from Aniyn than Aniyn is from Ziala. She's unarmed, outnumbered, and except when I take her to the sanitory always has at least her feet restrained. I'm starting to feel almost sorry for her. She cries for Dumal in her sleep. Almost sounds like Gandes." Jannia shuddered. "He'd have wriggled his way back into her good graces within a week, I think. She started off cursing him for betraying her, and now she's cursing him for abandoning her. He's a real piece of work. Sometimes I wonder if 'the taint of her mind' wasn't just an excuse." Emarr considered that. "There was a definite arrogance about him. He considers Humans little more than animals, though he seemed to have a somewhat higher regard for you. He considers himself far above the rest of us, and me in particular. He challenged my right to judge his fitness to mentor Akaril-" "You're her father." "Not in his eyes. She was given over to the cloisters at birth, as all such children are. Her blood father would never have known her, would certainly never have presumed to question any decision made about her training. But I have cared for her myself for months. Tucked her into bed at night, sung her songs. When she needed another empathic mind to soothe her fears, to banish her demons, I was the only one there. I cannot stop caring for her, cannot stop trying to do what is right by her, simply because her old mentor arrives on the scene. A mentor who already failed to protect her once-" He shook his head. "She was given to him to teach him a lesson, and he learned nothing from her. Why she was given to me I will never know, but I have tried to do right by her in the best way I know how, and-I cannot stop." Jannia nodded. "That's why youare her father, blood and tradition be damned. Because that's what fathers do." "Yes. That is what fathers do." "I think that's what I was really looking for from Aden, all those years ago. A father figure. Someone who wouldn't leave me like Dad did. Who'd be there, no matter what. And the thing is he was. After the rape, in the hospital. Afterward. There was never a time I couldn't turn to him. Never a time-" She seemed to notice Emarr was staring at her, and gave him a crooked, embarrassed smile. "Sorry." She tapped her temple, where a tiny white scar was barely visible against her pale skin. "Lots of shiny little epiphanies dancing around up here. They keep tripping and falling out my mouth. I'll shut up now." "I love you." She smiled, a bright, warm, genuine smile. "And you've been doing a really good job of it, too." She reached across the table for his hand. "You know I-" He knew what she was going to say. Had been waiting for the words for so long. And he could not let her say them. Not when a part of him was certain she would only call them back when she heard what he had to say. Her epiphany about Aden only served to convince him further that she could not possibly understand. "I need to speak to you privately," he interrupted. "Soon. Can you meet me on the bridge when you are finished here?" She nodded, and his heart cracked open at the way the light left her face. Even Jussel seemed to notice it, a worried frown creasing his smooth young brow, a reproachful look in his eyes. Emarr turned and walked away. * * * "Juicy's working on another piece already," Jannia said as she took her seat beside him. "I don't know where I'm going to put the stuff to keep it safe until I can get it to a kiln. He's really taken to it. I think-" "He has really taken toyou ," Emarr observed. "You have a natural way with children. Even with no shared language-" Jannia shrugged. "I don't know anything about kids. I just treat 'em like people. Seems to work." "You would make a wonderful mother." She grimaced. "I wouldn't go that far. Had a lousy role model, after all. I like to think I'd do a better job than she did, but I've never really-" She stopped, and just looked at him. "Akaril loves you. We attempted a meditation one evening. I had her go to a quiet place in her mind, a place she felt safe and calm. She chose the spa, the pool, and you were there. She made a point of that. You were there. You spent only a short time together, but she connected with you on a level that-" He sighed deeply in a way she didn't like. "I wish-" "You don't think I'd be a good motherto her. Is that it? I'd have to be an empath to be able to parent your precious little princess? Is that what this is about? You love me, I'm your destiny, and you'll sleep with me and heal me and involve me in taking down the woman who's been enslaving your people, but I'm not good enough-" Her throat went tight with anger and a grief she could never have expected, and she could barely get the rest of the words out. "So what, then? You just want us to be lovers, to spend the night together once in a while whenever we happen to be on the same planet? I'm not going to settle for that, Emarr. I love you. I loveher. I want-" Her voice cracked and broke and she couldn't have got any more words out had she wanted to. Damn.Damn. Shedid want it, and more that she could ever have imagined she would. To be with him, not just for a while, not just once in a while, but always. Wanted them to be a couple. A family. Sheknew she could mother Akaril if she tried. Maybe she wasn't an empath, but she had something else to offer-her shields, her control, her ability to keep an empath out if she wanted to. An important skill when trying to discipline a child like- "It is not you, Jannia. It is me.I cannot. I have tried, but there are things I cannot do for her. She has needs beyond those of other children. And she-" He closed his eyes. "She killed a man." "She what? She's just a little kid. How could she-" "Morris Burkeholt. Her so-called uncle. He tried to escape the burning house, to save himself, and she called him back. Influenced him, coerced him, to run back into the house and try to save her. But it was too late. He never reached her. He died in the fire, and she felt it, and since then she has been afraid of her own talents. Afraid, but still unable to control them, and it-and I-I do not know how to help her, Jannia. How to bring her past this, to teach her to live with it. I have not the skill, not the training. I fear what it will do to her as she grows, how it will wound her, change her. I fear-" Tears were flowing freely down his face now, though Jannia could barely see them through the tears in her own. "She needs healing I cannot give her. Guidance I cannot give her. I love her, but she was never mine to keep. I cannot be her father. She needs-" "Someone who isn't a coward?" He looked at her. "I knew that you would not understand. That you would not be able to accept this. Your own father-" "This isn't about my father! It's about you. I never thought you were the kind of man who'd turn his back on his own child because things were a little rough. I thought you were better than that. Or can you only deal with a little psychological trauma when it comes attached to a woman you want to sleep with?" "How can you-" "I can, because I have a special knife that can cut through bullshit. You fight tooth and nail to keep the devil you know from taking her away, but you'll happily give her to the devil you don't. You had qualms about lettingMerilee take her. Your oldest friend, yourAngel. But you'd give her to strangers to raise. You're trying to convince yourself this is right, but deep inside you know it's wrong. Wrong, Emarr. Akaril doesn't need some damnKinya-d'sar mentor, she needs herfather. If you can't see that-" "I know this hurts you, Jannia. I know you do not want it to be true. But thisis right. It is not just the man's death. Children like Akaril have always been raised in the cloisters. They need the solitude, the guidance, thediscipline. Their powers must be trained and channeled." "And they must learn to think of themselves as separate from and above the rest of their species, the way Andas does? He was raised the traditional way, and he doesn't seem to have turned out very well." "He is one-" "Yup. One. An individual, and so is she. She doesn't need the same thing every child like her needs. She's had a very different life. She won't fit in there. She doesn't even speak the language, Emarr. She'll hate it there, and she'll hate you for sending her. She'll never understand. You know what she'll think? That you don't want her any more. Is that the message you want to send? That the man who calls himself her father no longer loves her?" "She knows. She can feel-" "It won't matter." Her voice sounded cold in her ears. She felt cold inside. It felt very familiar, and very wrong. "You want to make sure shenever gets over what happened in that house? Then give her away. Abandon her, because that's what it is. And she'llknow, deep inside, that it's because she killed that man. Because the ability that enabled her to do it is still part of her. Send her away to learn to control it, and that's what she'll believe." Jannia got to her feet. "She doesn't need isolation, or training, or discipline. She needs love. Unconditional love. Without that, none of the rest of it will matter." She walked away without another word. * * * "Kinrai?" Jannia looked up from the inadequate haven of the corridor sanitory's sonic shower stall into Jussel's solemn, worried face and tried to manage a smile. Her lips couldn't seem to remember the shape of it. "Dovay kis tanja miran lo."Jannia only recognized one word-Dovay,Mother-but that was enough. Aniyn had sent him to find her, which meant Aniyn knew. Maybe not exactly what was wrong-would Emarr confide their problems to another woman?-- but certainly that something was. Empaths.At the moment, it was the worst obscenity she could think of. If Aniyn had known enough to send someone after her, wouldn't she know enough to realize she wanted to be alone? If you want to be alone, Jann, why didn't you lock the door? ============================================================ Shut up, Kerra. You're not here. Jussel lowered the seat on the waste processor and sat down."Emarr kia lim jor naisi," he said, then frowned at her blank look and added something that was probably a curse. "Emarr what?" Jussel opened his mouth again, started to speak-then hissed out a long, frustrated breath and reached for her hand. "If you're taking me to him so we can talk this out, kid, forget it. This isn't something talking's going to fix." Jussel frowned and shook his head, thrusting his hand closer to her. They had to send me the one person aboard who can't even empath me a vague idea of what he's trying to tell me.She'd have to let him show her, but if he led her to Emarr she'd just turn around and leave. She'd have to deal with him sooner or later, but not now. Not until she'd had some time to mourn the loss of something she'd barely begun to want. And mourn it she would. The hard, cold wall that had started to build in her at Emarr's revelation had cracked from the heat of her anger, shattered from the force of her pain. Even now her feelings toward Emarr were stronger than the walls were. Even when one of those feelings was an overwhelming desire to wring his arrogant neck. Not just Emarr. Akaril. Poor, sweet kid. Torn forever from the only home you've ever known, not once but twice. And another time when you were too small even to know what was happening. He means to do it again, and can't even see why it's wrong. How can he see me so clearly, more clearly than I see myself, and still be so blind about you? She let Jussel take her hand, and he led her down the corridor to her cabin. The door stood open, and the room was empty except for the neatly made bed and the sculpting table with her materials spread out on it and stored in a chest underneath. Emarr's locker gaped open, his few possessions-weapons, one datapad, a single pair of extra pants, the sleep shorts he'd left off last night, sleeping nude with her in the way of new lovers even though they could not yet share sex again-all gone. No indication that a man had ever shared this room, but for the fact thatshe would have closed the damned locker. Jannia pulled her hand from Jussel's grasp and cursed. "That bastard. That stupid coward. So that's how he wants to play this thing, is it? I guees it was easier than giving me the chance to throw him out-" "Kinrai?" Jussel chewed nervously at his lower lip and looked up at her with wide, nervous eyes. "Where is he? Crew quarters? Your room?" Jannia had no idea why she bothered asking. Even if the kid could understand, or answer, what was she going to do? Stalk down there and drag him back? Or-he hadn't even allowed her the small satisfaction of throwing his things out into the hall.Bastard. Arrogant, ignorant savage. Selfish creep- No. Not selfish. Not selfishenough. He was going to do what he thought was right even if it killed him. Even if it cost him the two people he loved most in all the universe. Almost like that was what he wanted. Or-like it was what he deserved. It's the right thing to do. The only thing. It's also, apparently, unforgivable. So unforgivable you won't even give me the chance. Make up your mind, you annoying, inconsistent- Martyr. That's the word. Willing to give up everything you've ever wanted, to end up with nothing, no family, no destiny-who gave you permission to givemeup, Dengas? To leavemealone? You can't just show me everything I never thought to want, and then pull it all out from under me like- "Kinrai?" Jussel's voice was tight with worry as he tugged at the hem of her tunic."Ka san Emarr?" She reached over to squeeze the boy's shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, and nodded a dismissal she hoped he'd understand. He frowned, concern for her still creasing his young face. He was a good kid. Sensitive. Compassionate. His mother was a lucky woman. "Go. I'm okay. Really." She made shooing motions with her hands.Please, kid. You've done what you had to. You told me. Showed me. There's nothing else you can do. I can't even talk to you. There was only one person on the ship she could talk to, and that was- Someone who was, she realized with a guilty start, very overdue for a trip to the sanitory. She hoped she wasn't too late. Cleaning up slaver piss would be just the thing to make her miserable day complete. * * * "Let us say that you are right-" Nikar said. Emarr made one more adjustment to the already perfectly tuned plasma manifold. "I am right." "You should still have given your woman the choice of whether to throw you out or not. She might not have. When my father took Kisan up to the cloisters, my mother told him she was never going to speak to him again. But when he came back, there she was, waiting." "Did your parents not divorce later?" Emarr pointed out. "Well, yes, but-Emarr, is that supposed to do that?" Emarr cursed as the trickle of sparks Nikar had noticed erupted into a fountain. "Gloves! Over there, on the shelf-" He grabbed them from the boy's hands and jerked them on, descending on the leaking manifold with grim determination. "Are you sure you know what you are doing?" "No." "That is good to hear. When I was the fire-haired woman's prisoner I kept telling myself, gods, if I ever get out of this, the first thing I want to do is be trapped in a small room with an exploding machine-" "The door is behind you, Nikar." "All I am saying is that the woman should-" "The woman," Emarr said, "would be gratified to hear you pleading her case. She is under the impression that you do not like her." "Yes, well. The first time I saw her I kind of spat on her." "Really." "Well, she was Human, like the other one. I thought-" He shrugged. "I thought wrong. If you and she ever start speaking again, will you tell her I am sorry?" "I will do better than that. I will teach you the words, that you might tell her yourself. It will mean more-" "-and you will not have to face her. They say the most dangerous animal is a mother whose young are threatened." "She is not the child's mother! I never gave her any indication-" He swallowed, and cursed. But he had. He had asked her to raise the child for him if their mission failed, had he not? And he had told her she was his destiny, that they would be together always-he grimaced. Well, he had fooled himself into believing it, for a time.I would have protected her from the very thing she most needed. I would have kept her from ever healing, from ever understanding. She does not need me. She never needed me. I was a stupid, arrogant, lovesick fool and she is better off without me. And now I have hurt her in ways she could never have been hurt before. Is that my destiny, then? To show her new and deeper levels of pain? He finished restoring the plasma manifold to its original state and closed the panel, then turned to Nikar. "Now, listen, boy, and I will tell you what you must say to her. Make certain you look her in the eye, but do not touch her unexpectedly. She-" He broke off, fearing to intimidate the boy so much he would reconsider his apology. "Listen," he repeated, and began Nikar's first lesson in Galactic. * * * Emarr Dengas was a subtle bastard, there was no doubt about that, Jannia thought as she tried to replicate the exact shape of his left foot in clay. Transmitting his apology under the umbrella of Nikar's let him salve his conscience without presenting Jannia with the opportunity to actually give or withhold forgiveness. Either way, it let him retain his precious martyr status. What did he want from her? Was she supposed to run into his arms and tell him all was forgiven, that she understood, that whatever he wanted to do about Akaril was fine with her? She couldn't do that. It wasn't fine. It would never be fine. It would never be right. Neither, apparently, would his toes. She was sure they weren't that long. And wasn't the second one a little longer than the first? He couldn't just push her away, shut her out, be so sure she could never forgive him that he wouldn't even give her the chance. Why not? It was good enough for you. Shutup,Kerra! This is not the same thing! It wasn't her imagination-well, in the literal sense she supposed it was. But the voice in the back of her headwas that of Aden Locke's blushing bride, and had been ever since she'd come to the realization of Kerra's role in her healing process. A trick of her own mind, borne of an unconscious-okay, not entirely unconscious-wish that her friend were really here to confide in. Much like the real Kerra, the voice wasn't easily shut up.It's exactly the same thing, and you know it. Jannia shook her head and sighed. The Kerra-voice was right. Emarr was doing the same thing she had done with her stupid betrayal plan. The only difference was that he had at least come clean about his transgressionbefore shutting her out. Yeah, but whenIcame clean, I let himdecide what to do about it! But no, he can't give me the choice, because I might choose to forgive him. He doesn't want to be forgiven,the Kerra-voice said.He wants to be punished. It's the only way to satisfy the part of him that knows you're right, without actually admitting that he's wrong. Well, too damned bad! If he wants someone to help him torture himself, he can ask Ziala. I'm sure as hell not going to oblige him. And anyway, I don't have to agree with his decision to forgive him. I only have to understand it. An insight you have Gandes to thank for. Jannia shook her head, her lips quirking in a sardonic grin. The mental voice might sound like Kerra, but its taste for irony was all Jannia. * * * "I hate this." Emarr turned around to find Jannia standing in the engine room doorway, gazing at him with a frown on her face and a naked, unhappy look in her dark eyes. He had known it was only a matter of time before she sought him out, forced a confrontation. Made one last attempt to convert him to her way of thinking. Best to let her get it over with. He glanced at Nikar, who had been "helping" him with yet another round of completely unnecessary maintenance. "Can you..." The boy took one look at Jannia, nodded, and slipped out past her. "I hate this," she repeated. "You moved your things out of our cabin. You spend all your time with that boy. You don't sleep with me, you don't talk to me. I feel like I'm the one who's done something wrong. You've been avoiding me for a week, ever since-" She grimaced, as if unwilling to put into words what he had told her. "I miss you. I never meant-I never wanted-" "Did you not?" he asked softly. "Let us be honest, Jannia. I may not have been able to sense your emotions, but I saw your face." She shook her head. "Maybe I did, a little, at first. But I've had too much time to think. Too much time-Emarr, I don't want this. This distance between us. It feels wrong. Knowing what you plan to do about Akaril hurts. I think you're making a huge mistake, and it's breaking my heart, and I know it's breaking yours, and I-" She closed her eyes and breathed a huge, exhausted-sounding sigh. "But this is breaking my heart too. I shouldn't have let you get away with moving your things while I was out of the cabin. I should have gone after you then. But didn't. I guess I needed the time to think. I've been thinking a lot. Not much else to do, when the only other person on this ship who speaks my language is Ziala. I tried talking to her-" Emarr frowned. "You spoke to Ziala about me?" Jannia shrugged helplessly. "I tried to at first. It was pretty pointless. All she did was curse your name a lot. Seemed to help a bit at first, actually." Her lip twitched. "I hate what you're going to do. I hate that you think it's the right thing to do, the only thing to do, when it's so obvious to me that it's the worst possible course of action. But damn it, Emarr, I don't want to lose you because of it. I love you. I think I have for a long time. The things you've done for me-I'm whole now because of you." Emarr's heart skipped a beat.I love you. The one and only time she had ever spoken those words, he had responded by crushing her fragile, newfound dreams. He had never thought to hear them from her again. "Jannia-" part of him knew he no longer had the right to speak her name, but he knew now why it had been such an issue for her, and he would never again deny her that simple recognition of identity. "You healed yourself, Jannia. You are whole because of your own courage. You owe me nothing." "Crap, Emarr. I owe youeverything. When you told me about-about this thing with Akaril-I thought I could feel myself shutting down again. Going cold inside. Then I-" She shook her head, hard, and closed her eyes, squeezing tears out. "I couldn't. They weren't there any more. The walls. They've melted. You melted them. There's no going back now. I feel-" She drew a deep, ragged breath. "I feel too damned much, and it's killing me. I miss you. I need you. And as much as I think giving Akaril up is wrong, I know how much it's going to hurt you to lose her." She bit her lip. "I don't want you to lose me too. Hell, I don't want to loseyou, which I'd have told you a week ago if you'd ever bothered to ask me." The tears were flowing freely down her face now, and her lower lip trembled in a way that stung his heart. "I've been trying for days now to find a way to say this, and God damn it, it's still coming out all wrong. I-" Her voice broke, she justlooked at him with such longing in her eyes that it would have been physically impossible not to go to her. He tried to hold her gently, but she clung to him with such fierceness his own restraint seemed pointless. "What you do about Akaril is your decision, right or wrong. What to do about her tragically mistaken father ismine. And I intend to keep you." She buried her face in the collar of his shirt, soaking it with her tears, and cursed. "Take this damn thing off, Emarr. Take it off. It doesn't belong on you." "It is just a shirt, Jannia." "Take itoff!" She shoved out of his arms and pulled at the shirt herself, fumbling with the fastenings with hands that trembled too much. He captured her fingers in his and stilled them, raising them to his lips. "Jannia." Somehow he managed to keep his voice level. Firm. Calm. Inside him his heart was swelling with such sharp, intense, conflicting emotions he wondered how his chest could hold it. All at once, the shirt did feel a little constricting. Jannia leaned back against the wall as if she no longer trusted her legs to hold her, and watched through her tears as he unfastened the shirt and peeled it off his arms, letting it fall to the floor. "Better?" he asked softly. She nodded. "Perfect." She went to him, dipped her head, and kissed his shoulder. Her fingers, still trembling, moved up to touch his chest, to trace the thin white lines of his healed wounds. He had always scarred easily, a trait that had pleased Ziala. "I'm sorry," Jannia whispered. "So am I. Sorry you had to. Sorry there was nothing I could do to make it easier. Sorry-" "Shh." She kissed him, her lips brushing his as softly as a summer breeze. "I hated hurting you. I will never hurt you again. I love you. Nothing will ever change that, Emarr. Not even-" She drew a ragged breath. "But God, I did want to be her mother." "I know." He closed his eyes, and just held Jannia, feeling his body stirring to life in her arms, his loins hardening with a need so pure and desperate it stunned him. His body had been unresponsive for so long, and for it to wake now, at this moment- "I want you," he whispered. "Now." "Yes." She wrapped her arms tightly around him and pressed her body against his with such a possessive fierceness he might almost have laughed at her eagerness if it did not touch him so deeply. The strength of her love amazed and humbled him. He did not deserve her. Would never deserve her. But he resolved, at that moment, to spend the rest of his life trying. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to their cabin. "Watch the table," she warned, pulling her legs in as much as she could to avoid knocking her tools off the small worktable next to the door. "I don't want-" He silenced her with a kiss and set her down, letting her body slide down his, feeling the silky fabric of her tunic against his bare fevered skin, the warmth of her body through it. "I've been--," she began again when he came up for air, only to be kissed silent again, "-finishing you," she managed a moment later when his mouth wandered from hers to explore the delicate shell of her ear. "Finishing me?" "The statue. I-" The rest of her words were lost in a moan as his tongue found the place on her throat where her pulse throbbed fast and hard. "Show me," he breathed against her shoulder, before raising his head. She nodded. Slid her hand down his arm, to find and clasp his fingers, to maintain contact as he released her. With a slightly unsteady hand she eased back the damp cloth that covered the figure, unveiling it to his eyes. He was silent for a long moment. She lowered her eyes, avoided looking at him, or at the clay figure of him. Shy. Uncertain. "Emarr?" she asked tentatively. "I am trying to decide whether telling you it is magnificent would sound appreciative or concieted." She chuckled softly. "Probably both." She released his hand and used both of hers to re- cover the figure. He slipped his arms around her from behind, drawing her close. "I love that," she said, leaning her head back to offer him her throat. "The way you hold me. Sometimes I think if we could never make love again, just being held would be enough-" He slid one hand under the edge of her tunic, caressing her belly, seeking the fastening of her pants. "Should I stop, then?" "Don't you dare. I said sometimes. I certainly didn't say now." She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Can you? I mean-" He pressed his body suggestively against hers, letting her feel his hardness against her lower back. "The only question is can I wait." He slid his hand down into the open waistband of her pants, slid it slowly and temptingly down her belly, stopping just short of her most sensitive places. His other hand drifted up, under her tunic, seeking other treasures. Her breast was small, just filling his palm, her nipple taut and a little rough as his thumb stroked across it. Her breath caught-a quick, sharp gasp. "I love your body, Jannia." She laughed. "You think I'm too thin," she reminded him. "I love your body because you are in it." His lower hand drifted upward now too, exploring her waist, her ribs, her breast. "I think it is unfair that I am not allowed a shirt and you are." "Then do something about it." She raised her arms and let him strip her. He turned her around and lifted her in his arms, raising her breasts to the level of his mouth so he could feast on them. He loved their taste, her perfect little nipples like ripe berries on his tongue. He loved the sounds she made. Little gasps. Little moans. Little sighs. The clean scent of her skin, her hair, everything. It was all so close to perfect it took his breath away, and yet he wished- "Jannia."He moaned her name with such longing in his voice it stung her heart, and she knew what he wanted. What he missed. She opened her spirit, but there was no answer from his, and she knew it was still too soon. "We can wait-" she began, but he shook his head. "It is too late to wait." He carried her to the bed and laid her down on it, carefully, crouching as he lowered her so that at no time would his body loom over hers, and she smiled tenderly at his sensitivity. He finished undressing himself, and then her, and he lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. His hands moved over her skin, stroking and caressing. Warming her skin. Warming her inside, too. More than warm. Hot. On fire. She burned with need, burned with pleasure. She pressed close to him, twining one hand in his long thick hair as she kissed him, her mouth feasting hungrily on his while her other hand roved everywhere, over his shoulders, his back, his bottom. She needed to touch all of him, feel all of him. "Emarr." His name was a moan and a curse and a prayer. She was so full of feeling she thought she would burst with it, and he was the one doing it to her. With his hands, with his mouth, with his scent and his taste and his voice desperately whispering her name. But it was hers. All hers. It swelled within her, rose within her. From her own body, from her own spirit. From her own heart, a heart that loved him so much it- His hands drifted lower, to her hips, her legs. Stroking, rubbing. He cupped the back of one thigh, guided it gently over his hip, and slid into her. She cried out with a pleasure so sharp it stung her. She clutched at him, rocking her body against his as he thrust into her, rejecting the gentle pace he tried to set. She wanted harder, faster, more intense, and she demanded it, whispering insistently in his ear. He laughed out loud at her eagerness, rolling onto his back so he could pull her even closer, fill her even more deeply. "Emarr." She gasped his name as the pleasure mounted, like a great hot wave of fire rolling through her, searing her, melting her. She reached out once more, desperately, opening her spirit wide and praying to any powers that might be listening- "Jannia. Oh, gods, Jannia."He was there. In her body, in her spirit, in her mind. They were one, truly one, his beautiful, powerful soul awakening to hers in the moment when the wave crashed over her, carrying her right over the edge of ecstasy and taking him with her. I love you.Jannia never knew from whose soul the wordless vow originated, and it never mattered. It reverberated through them both like an echo that would go on forever. CHAPTER 26 ========== "I can't believe Emarr actually wants to watch Kerra work," Aden said with a shake of his head as he dropped his long body into a chair in the newly rechristenedEmerald Blade 'slounge. "I admit themindthat can finagle meaningful information out of locked and encrypted computer files is fascinating, but the actual process is about as interesting as watching ice melt. In a one-degree-centigrade room." Jannia looked down into her cup and said nothing. Emarr's interest in observing Kerra's progress had more to do with what information she was trying to obtain than how she obtained it. But even that interest was not the sole reason he had stayed on theBlade 's bridge with Kerra. It had also, and not in the least coincidentally, left Jannia alone with Aden. Aniyn, Nikar and even her shadow Jussel had seemingly evaporated into the ship's ventilation system following a quiet and mysterious exchange in Lidaru between Emarr and Aniyn just before the Lockes arrived. And Akaril and Lirah were yet to be collected. Safer, for the moment, to leave them on a ship Andas wasn't familiar with, until they could be whisked directly offworld. Ryan couldn't even be coerced into making Andas familiar with it, as she was still on Silas Kilborne's ship-Kilborne's pilot still hadn't shown up with theAvaranda , a state of affairs that wasn't exactly doing wonders for O'Hare's mood. Andas notwithstanding, there were other reasons why Jannia couldn't wait to get Akaril and Lirah off that ship. The degree of emotional tension on board had been palpable even over the comm line. What the hell had been going on between O'Hare and Kilborne, anyway? "Hey. Jann. You leave part of your brain back on Mercala?" Jannia blinked blankly at the hand Aden was waving in front of her face. "Hell, no." She shook her head. "Got part of my soul back, more like. Not just the part I thought I was looking for, either." Aden frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he tried to digest that. Hearing her wax philosphical had to be a strange experience for him. "So," he began after a long pause. "I couldn't help noticing the way you and Dengas keep-" Aden seemed suddenly fascinated by a spot on the wall behind Jannia's head. "Touching each other?" Jannia could feel the heat rising in her skin, and fervently wished the recent improvements to her eating and sleeping habits had improved her color a bit more than they had. She was still much too bloody pale to hide a blush. "Yeah. That." At least she wasn't the only one blushing. She wondered if it looked as out of place on her as it did on his rugged, masculine, forty-year-old face. "Are you-" He made a growling noise in his throat. "Never mind. None of my business." "Go ahead, Aden. Am I what? Sleeping with him? In love with him? Going to marry him?" "None of my business," Aden repeated. "The answers are yes, desperately, and maybe, in that order." "How-" He broke off, then opened his mouth again to repeat what was fast becoming a litany. "I love you," she said. It silenced him quite effectively, Jannia noted with satisfaction. She'd have to remember to start there, when she had this conversation with Vaia. He just sat there, staring at her, his gray eyes wide and his mouth open. Then he closed his eyes, swallowed, and ran the edge of his tongue along his lower lip in a gesture she remembered from a long time ago. "Why do I feel like I'm in some kind of time warp?" he said at last. "Maybe you are. Maybe we both are." She shrugged. "Have you ever wished you could go back in time, relive one moment understanding things you didn't understand the first time around?" Aden nodded, his eyes wide and dark and haunted. "Oh, yeah. Every time I look at you." "Then let's do it. My turn first. My name is Jannia Wise. I'm fifteen years old, and I'm desperately looking for a father figure to replace the shiftless glorified sperm donor who ran out on me. There's also some wacky adolescent hormones trying to confuse the issue. Don't let them." Aden's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Jannia smiled crookedly. "Oh, and I have this crazy habit of opening my ship's boarding ramp to all-and-sundry in defiance of all my partner's good advice and then blaming innocent father-figures for the consequences of my own stupidity. So I'll understand if you don't want the job. But I have reason to believe you'll be really good at it, after the initial rocky start. You'll really ace that whole unconditional acceptance requirement. And the blaming you thing-I'll probably stop in, oh, about eight years, okay?" She extended her hand. "What do you say?" Aden didn't say anything, actually. He just sat there and stared at her with his mouth open. "Aden?" she prompted after a few minutes. His mouth snapped closed, and he blinked. "Little sister. I distinctly remember signing up for a little sister. Nobody said anything about a daughter. How will it look if I end up married to somebody about your age?" "How about we split the difference and call me your niece?" Aden shook his head. His laugh was genuine, but his eyes were oddly bright. "I think Akaril Dengas already has that role sewn up." It was amazing how quickly a throat welling with incipient laughter could grow tight and sore with the ominous threat of tears. Jannia looked down, trying to conceal that telltale swimming brightness. She could feel Aden's gaze on her, his frown like a physical pressure on the top of her head. He cursed softly. "Okay, Jann, spill it." Jannia looked up from her perusal of the dark depths of her cup ofdasu to meet Aden's gaze with raised brow. "I'd rather drink it, Locke." "Don't. Don't try to hide behind jokes, Jann. You don't do it well. What's wrong, and what does it have to do with Akaril?" Jannia heaved a heavy, miserable sigh, and dragged a hand through her hair. "Emarr's planning to send her off to empath boarding school." Aden drew in a hissing breath through his teeth. "Please explain to me exactly what you mean by 'empath boarding school'." There was something deeply, wickedly satisfying about relating the whole maddening, heartbreaking, uncensored situation, complete with an entire litany of aspersions cast on Emarr's parentage, intelligence, character and smell. She couldn't quite bring herself to disparage his bedroom skills, but all things considered his religion and culture were fair game. When she finally came to the end of it all, Aden's expression of outrage was all she could have hoped for. "And you're just going to stand by and let this happen?" Okay, that one wasn't in the script. "What would you have me do, Aden? I have no parental rights over Akaril. Not unless Emarr gives me some. And he doesn't even think those rights are his to give in the first place." "Hell, I don't know, Jann. Fight for her. Tear strips out of her father's arrogant green hide until he listens. Kidnap her, and refuse to give her back until-" Jannia shook her head. Slowly. Sadly. "I haven't given up, Aden. I'm not giving up until this ship leaves the empath homeworld's orbit without Akaril on it. But I-" She shook her head. "I can't be Emarr's adversary in this. If I fight him and lose it could cost us everything we've tried to build together. Our love. Our destiny, as he'd put it." "So you're willing to sacrifice Akaril to save yourself a little pain?" "That's not-" She cut herself off with a low, heartfelt growl. "I'm not the one who wants to sacrifice her. And I'm sure as hell not willing to lose him right along with her." "So you're cutting your losses, in other words. How-practical-of you." "Damn it, you're not playing fair. I'd made my peace with this. And just when did I give you the right to judge how I handle my personal relationships, anyway?" "Eight years ago, apparently. If you weren't in the market for a little fatherly advice, why'd you open this can of worms in the first place?" Jannia had no answer for that. "And just for the record," Aden added, "people don't usually use phrases like 'stupid arrogant savage with a stick up his ass' to refer to somebody whose choices they've made peace with." Jannia shrugged one shoulder. "It's not blame, Aden, it's frustration. I can feel the conflict in him every time he touches me, feel him teetering-and every time I try to push him the way I want him to go, he slips just a little further the other way. Like I'm pushing from the wrong angle or something. Until I can figure out the right angle, it's probably better not to push at all." "Hmmm." Aden leaned back in his chair for a moment, staring at the wall over Jannia's head. "Another angle. Pushing from another angle. Seeing from another angle. Shooting the misguided little bastard from-" "Another angle. Another perspective. Someone else's perspective." Jannia could feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "And I know just whose." "Kerra? He hasn't been too inclined to listen toher advice lately either." "Who said anything aboutadvice ?" * * * "I've got it." Kerra grinned proudly as she swiveled around in the pilot's chair. "One empath homeworld and delivery information on fifty-three individual empaths. And I didn't even break a sweat." She flicked her fingers against the armrest. "That for your stubborn prisoner." "I thank you for managing it so quickly," Emarr said. "I do not know how long Ryan will be able to delay this would-be mentor of Akaril's. I mean to have her off this world tonight, if I can, and far away by the time he arrives." "I don't blame you. He sounds-obsessive." Kerra shuddered. "Watch your back, Emarr. Watch Jannia's back, too." "Oh, I have been. Most closely." Inwardly, Emarr breathed a phantom sigh of relief. He did not know how he would have responded, has she asked what his plans were for ensuring Akaril's safety. She had obviously decided to keep her own counsel on the subject after their conversation on her wedding night. She would know, eventually, when he returned from his homeworld without the child. But he had no desire to provoke a confrontation on the subject now. He had been through all the salient arguments already with Jannia, who had a much more personal interest in the matter, and they had reached an understanding. There was nothing to be gained in uncorking that bottle again. "So-you and Jannia." Kerra's blue eyes glittered with avid romantic speculation as she patted the ship's bulkhead beside her. "Emerald Bladehere implies a budding new partnership-what kind? Have you brought up the M word, or is she still too skittish for that?" "I do not know ifskittish is the correct word. She seemed to regard your wedding as-" "-the Pointless Formality of the Century. Her exact phrase." Emarr nodded. "She may consider our marriage even more of one. And part of me almost agrees with her. I could not imagine any mere ceremony, or signing of papers, wedding us more fully to one another than what we have already shared. No words we could speak would mean more than the way our spirits join when we make love. But it is not enough that she and I know what she is to me. I want the very stars to know." "That sounds like a pretty good start on a proposal speech," Kerra said with a smile. "Has 'I'm not living with you on this godforsaken matriarchal rock unless you have a binding legal claim on me' beat right out. Not that that one didn't have a certain gruff charm at the time." "Yes. Your Aden has the heart of a poet." "Which is why it beats in iambic pentameter." She turned her head and frowned at the sound of voices drifting in from the corridor. "Why would you want to go with him, Jann?" The voice was Aden's. "It'll just make it harder on you and the girl. I say you hitch a ride back to Mercala with Tami-she's heading out that way anyhow-do whatever you have to do with theDagger , and have Dengas pick you up when it's all over." "I thought about that," Jannia's voice replied, "but I don't want to make him go through it alone. He's the one this will be hardest on. Kids are resilient. She's only been with him a few months, after all. She'll probably forget all about him once she settles in." Something large and heavy squirmed in the depths of Emarr's stomach at her words-and at the smug calculation he sensed behind them as he reached out to touch her mind.I should have known you would never drop this. You fight dirty, my love- Kerra had frozen in place where she stood as the content of Aden and Jannia's staged conversation slowly dawned on her. Now, she turned her face toward him, and her blue eyes, usually sparkling with warmth and humor, were colder than he had ever seen them. "Emarr," she said in a flat, emotionless voice, "just what the hell are they talking about?" His sense of her, in that moment, was anything but emotionless. He felt shock from her, dread, anger-something else that felt suspiciously like betrayal, which made no sense at all. "Kerra-" "What. Are. They. Talking. About." She ground out each word through clenched teeth. "And if it's what I think it is, Emarr-" He closed his eyes, unable to bear the cold anger in her eyes, in her voice. The conversation out in the corridor had fallen silent, as if on cue. Kerra frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she stared at the door. "They-" She shook her head, and turned her attention back to him. "Transparent as crystal, the pair of them. Shrewd, too, though. They knew you weren't going to tell me." Her blue eyes bored implacably into his. "Tell me. Tell me now, Emarr, and don't bother holding anything back, because I'll get it from them anyway." "We are taking Akaril home with the others," he explained. "We are not keeping her." "Returning her to her birth parents? But I thought they weren't the ones raising her to begin with, according to Ziala's records. Wouldn't they just give her back to-" Kerra swallowed. "Emarr, you're not!" "Returning her to the cloisters, where she will be trained to control her gifts byKinya-d'sar adepts? I am. I have no choice. It is the way such children have always been raised, to protect their sensitive minds from the intrusion of too many alien emotions, to teach them a deeper level of control that most empaths will ever need." "And what-you're just going to leave her there?" Emarr nodded. "It is best, believe me. She needs the guidance, the discipline, that the cloisters can provide." "Because she's aspecial child. Gifted." Rage, burning rage, washed out from her. Emarr recoiled from it as if from a blaster strike. "Yes-" "She haspotential. Potential that has to beprotected . Her gifts have to bedeveloped ." Oh, Gods- "So they can beused-" "No! It is not like that-" Pain exploded in Emarr's gut as Kerra's fist impacted, hard and unexpected, with his stomach. It knocked him backward, off-balance. But not half so off-balance as the concentrated burst of emotion that went with it. It stunned him, overwhelmed him. His tailbone cracked against the floor, hard, and he found himself staring up at a small blonde woman with blazing blue eyes in a pale, stricken face. He cringed inside as his battered mind digested what she'd thrown at him. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. Confusion. Loneliness. Where are they? Why don't they come get me? Why didn't they fight harder? I don't like it here. I want to go home. I want my father! ========================================================== "Oh, gods-" Emarr stared up at Kerra, reached out his hand to her as if to offer comfort- -what an arrogant thought, when it was he who had distressed her in the first place. She glared down at him, cursed, and stalked past him into the corridor, and he hoped into Aden's arms. Emarr flung himself backward and stared miserably up at the bulkhead supports. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Jannia's voice, coming from the doorway, was soft with compassion, and there was suprisingly little triumph in what he sensed from her. "You set me up," he accused. "You sether up." "Guilty as charged." She shrugged one shoulder in less-than-sincere apology. "How bad did she get you?" "Her follow-through is amazing. More than makes up for the lack of mass." He craned his neck to look at Jannia. "And I was not expecting a physical attack. A slap, at worst-" "I wondered whether she'd ever get the chance to use those hand-to-hand lessons I gave her last year. Never expected she'd be using them on you." Jannia moved to his side and knelt down next to him. "I could have told you myself that Kerra doesn't pull her punches." He tried to sit up, but stopped with a grunt of pain. Doesn't pull her punches, indeed. Kerra had thrown all her weight into the blow, saving nothing for her balance. It was a wonder she had not ended up on the floor with him. Jannia eased an arm under him and helped him into a sitting position. "See?" she said. "It's not just me. I think this almost qualifies as a consensus." "Which would be of great significance if my daughter were being raised by a committee." "Like Kerra." Emarr grimaced. "I understand what you were trying to do, but you should not have used her so. Should not have traded on such deep feelings, such painful memories. Why do you think I did not tell her myself?" "Because a part of you already knew how she'd react." He gave her a wry look. "You are my lover. Not my therapist." "You never accepted that line from me." "Also, if I had known how she would react, I would not be on the floor." Jannia chuckled. "That one I'll give you." "I thought that we had agreed to disagree. Not that you would take the first opportunity to enlist our friends against me." "Not against you. For her. I care about Akaril. Love her. I couldn't stop trying to do right by her. Not even for you." He could hear the echo of his own words in hers, and he managed a small, ironic smile through the pain in his belly, the pain in his soul. "Because youare her mother?" She shrugged again, just barely, and looked away. He grimaced. "I understand everything you have said. Everything Kerra said-and felt. But I am not sure what it changes. Akaril does need training. Guidance. Healing. I do not know how to give her that. I have tried." "I understand that. But it doesn't change the fact that she also needs a family who love her. There has to be a way to balance the two. And while we're on the subject, I feel it my duty to point out that growing up in the cloisters didn't keep Andas from getting his moral compass demagnetized." "I want to believe that you are right. I love that child. I do not want to lose her. But I am afraid. Sometimes love is not enough." "And sometimes it's everything. Believe me, I know." She took his hand, and her thumb stroked gently back and forth along his palm. "You told me I was your destiny. Would your destiny steer you in the wrong direction?" "I thought it my destiny to heal you. You healed yourself. When you remembered Gandes's tears, his anguish, I was not even there-" "And what was I doing when I remembered? Using the gift you gave me. Trying to sculpt your image. You were part of it, Emarr. A big part. Don't ever think you weren't." "Perhaps," he conceded. "But not so big a part as I had so arrogantly imagined myself." "Big enough." She squeezed his hand. "Here's a thought, Emarr. Would you ever have found me if you hadn't been taken from your home, enslaved, marked, freed by means of a rigged card game? You always had this weird faith that all of that was part of some divine plan. But Akaril's coming to you was a mistake? Your gods sent her to you, but you know better than they do, don't you? She should be sent back and raised the way she would have been had it never happened, because that's how it's always been done. What about her destiny, Emarr? Maybe things happened to her the way they did for a reason, too." He frowned at her. "You do not even believe in destiny, Jannia." She shrugged. "I didn't. I'm starting to wonder, now, sometimes." She reached out to take one braided lock of his hair between two of her fingers. "Maybe this is mine. To stop you from breaking your heart, and hers. To keepthis family together, in spite of what's been done to others. Like Kerra's. Like yours-didn't you once say you had a sister who- "Yes. Cynestria. I saw her once, when my father and I brought an offering of meat to the cloisters. She had my mother's face, and her hair, and my father's eyes." He smiled sadly at that bittersweet memory. "She gave me a bracelet she had made, from braided yarn and colored stones-for our mother, she said."Ask her if she remembers me, the girl had said. She had been six years old. The same age as Akaril. Her voice and face had been cool, her eyes betraying no sorrow. Emarr had lost the bracelet, and forgotten the question, long before he'd arrived back at the village. Strange that he should remember it now. Or perhaps not so strange. It had been hard for the boy he had been at the time to sympathize with a sister he did not know. Not whenshe had taken their mother fromhim first. He had not wanted to recognize her sorrow, her loneliness. Not even when he had felt its echo in Kerra's-not until the connection had been forced on him. Powerfully. Painfully. I cannot do to my daughter what was done to my sisters, heart and blood. Jannia was right. He drew a deep, steadying breath. "Is Kerra gone?" Jannia shook her head. "Getting debriefed. Probably about finished taking Aden's head off by now-" "Good. I need a female escort on this benighted planet if I am to go collect the girls. And I want you here to protect the others should Andas make an appearance. Not to mention taking care of our prisoner-I will be most happy to turn her over to the Council of Clans and let them decide her fate." Jannia nodded. "Speaking of deciding people's fates, Emarr-" He took a deep, bracing breath, knowing that once he had spoken his decision aloud, there would be no going back. "Akaril's fate is between her and the gods. But until she is old enough to seek it, her place is with me." "With us." "Yes. With us." "And her training?" Emarr winced. Sighed. Shook his head. "Perhaps my sister can be convinced to come away with us, to teach the child in exchange for the chance to see what lies beyond our homeworld's sky. Or if she will not, I will find another who will. I will ask everyKinya- d'sar on the planet, if I have to." Jannia gave a sharp, satisfied nod. "Good." She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip for a minute. "We'll have to handle the domestic partnership contract later, unless you want to follow the local laws and just have Merilee sell you to me-no, very bad idea. I suppose I'll need to legally adopt the kid, too-" "Adopting Akaril is a formality. The gods have given her into your care, and you have proved yourself more than worthy of their gift. More so, apparently, than I. Now, as to ourwedding-" Emarr grinned wickedly. "That is also a formality. Therefore, I intend it to be as formal as possible. I see you in an ivory silk gown, long and flowing, with-" "Just go get our kid, Emarr. That's what counts. You, me, her. Together. Everything else is just-detail." She rose, and reached out a hand to help him up. "But the artist in you knows how important detail can be-" She laughed. "We'll talk about it. Now go, and bring our daughter home." Excerpt fromInto the Fire ========================= by Norma McPhee ISBN 1-55316-030-4 ================== Copyright © 2001 PROLOGUE You are about to delete the files,the computer said. Kerra had muted the calm, cultured, maddening voice. Still, the words echoed hauntingly in her mind. Delete the files. Such a cold, unfeeling phrase. Destroying her work was like ripping out her own still-beating heart. Still, what choice had they left her? Had they really believed she would not find out? Or thought she wouldn't care? Please reenter password and personal identification code for confirmation. Kerra's fingers flickered over the keypad. The warning winked out only to be replaced by an equally soulless message.Access approved. Files deleted. Kerra closed her eyes, leaning her head wearily back against the chair's headrest. So far, so good. But this was just the beginning. She needed to find every backup, every note she'd made, every last trace of her research into neural biosynthesis. But the longer she lingered, the deeper she delved into the system's protected levels, the greater the chance her tampering would be detected. It took hours. Kerra used to get lost in her work, time passing unnoticed. Tonight she felt the passing of every second. Kerra bit her lip, tasting blood, as the warning flashed one last time. Her hand trembled so hard she missed the delete key twice before making the final, fatal stab. Now her work was finished. CHAPTER 1 Aden couldn't remember the last time he'd been this drunk. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a driving need to kill as many brain cells as possible. Sure, spending what few credits he had left on putrid-smelling booze in the seediest, slimiest excuse for a tavern to be found on this sorry ball of rock was a pretty stupid thing to do, but what was one more act of idiocy on top of everything else? Vaia'd warned him not to take this job. Said anyone who accepted a contract to run contraband into the Divras system was looking for an early, forced retirement without pension, if not an early grave. He'd laughed. Told her she was getting old and soft. Ha! The only thing getting soft was Aden's head. By a miraculous combination of skill, daring, and blind luck, he'd managed to land his ship in one piece after a shot from a Divran security ship took out his main drive. That had been the last bit of luck he'd had. Thank the stars the nature of the illegal shipment had been relatively benign, and they'd considered seizing his ship, weapons and documents enough. It could just as easily have been his life or his freedom as his ship, he realized darkly.You're pushing the odds, said a voice in the back of his head.Pushed 'em too damned hard, this time. Half the smugglers working back when Aden started out were either imprisoned or dead now, the ones who weren't mostly retired. Aden shook off the thought. Damned if he was going to hang it up when he hadn't even hit forty. He might not have a choice, now, he knew. Stuck on a planet where the government controlled everything from commerce to the sciences to where people were allowed to pee, a guy like him was as good as in prison. He still didn't know how they'd found him out. His false papers had been prepared by the very best in the trade, his cargo hold rigged to give false readings if scanned. Still, those damned security boats had been sitting there when he came in just as if they'd been waiting for him. "Right, Locke. First stupidity, now raging paranoia. Face facts. You got caught because you've lost the edge." He glared balefully down into the murky green depths of his drink. "I'm almost tempted to let you go on believing that." At the sound of that soft, familiar voice Aden's blood froze. Gandes. Here. It wasn't possible... "Surprised to see me, Locke? Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily?" He slipped out of the shadows - a tall, gaunt skeleton of a man, his thinning reddish hair slicked close to his scalp, making his angular features seem even more skull-like. He carried two blasters openly, one on his hip and another in a forearm holster, and a dagger thrust brazenly through his belt. Stars only knew what he had concealed. He eased into the seat across from Aden like they were old friends, appropriating Aden's half-finished drink. "Seven years I rotted in that putrescent dungeon, planning what I'd do when our paths crossed again." His light, conversational tone was at odds with the chill malice in his eyes. "It's not quite as bad as what you did to me - but then, I'm not finished with you yet." "Get out of my sight, you miserable baby-raper." Aden's fingers itched with the need to wrap them around Gandes' scrawny throat. Gandes laughed, a sound out of a child's nightmare. "Come now, Locke. Jannia was hardly a baby. She was old enough to be in the business, after all." "She was fifteen," Aden spat back. "Just a green, innocent kid. What happened to you when Vaia left wasn't her fault. If there were any humanity left in you...." "If there is, it's no thanks to your precious Vaialora." The twist of Gandes' lip made the name an obscenity. "She knew what she'd done to me. What do you call that, if not rape?" "An accident," said Aden softly, not really expecting Gandes to listen. "She wasn't raised as a Kethrian. She didn't know." "She might have tried to help me," Gandes said. "Instead she discarded me like a burned-out power cell." "That doesn't excuse what you did." Aden wondered why he bothered. It wasn't like Gandes was capable of anything as human as remorse. "You brutalized an innocent kid and left her for dead. It took months to heal her."To heal the physical wounds , Aden added silently. There had been other wounds he didn't think would ever heal. Gandes smiled coldly. The same smile Aden knew still haunted Jannia Wise's nightmares. "You're right, of course. It was Vaia herself I should have punished for deserting me, but she wasn't there that night. In your bed, wasn't she?" Aden stared at the small wet ring where his drink had been and said nothing. There was nothing Gandes could say that would make him feel worse about that business than he already did. He'd known sleeping with his ex-partner that night was a mistake. He hadn't known until too late how big a mistake. "This time I'll do it properly," Gandes continued. "Get the right bitch. Make her suffer as I've suffered all these long years." He paused a moment, considering. "Of course, I'll also have to deal with sweet Miss Wise, since she did take part in that little sting of yours." He rose, leaning across the table, his cold, mad eyes boring into Aden's own. "That will be my parting gift to you. The knowledge of what awaits your precious friends, while you languish here, unable to help even yourself. I'll send you a little souvenir. A lock of Jannia's lovely raven hair. Or maybe even the entire scalp." Gandes left then, but his gloating laughter seemed to linger in the air, a mocking echo in the back of Aden's mind. Aden's stomach twisted, and it wasn't from the alcohol. He wanted to go after Gandes, to stop him, but knew it was futile. Gandes, as he always had, wore a whole arsenal on his scarecrow-lean form. Aden's weapons had been seized along with his ship. As tempting as it might be to take on Tral Gandes with his bare hands, suicide wouldn't help his friends. Kerra was returning from a quick, furtive trip to buy certain feminine necessities she couldn't get delivered, when she'd spotted them, standing in the doorway of the dilapidated transient hostel she'd called home for the last few weeks. A tall, thin male and a heavyset, colorless female, both cold-eyed and stone-faced - she'd known at a distance what they were, even before they flashed their credentials in the hostel proprietor's face. Internal Security. Now she huddled behind a pile of refuse in a narrow, foul-smelling alley, wondering where she could possibly go from here. She was quickly using up the store of tricks she'd learned from the holovids and romantic adventure novels, which had been her main distraction from her rather solitary life at the Science Ministry installation. She was running out of ideas. If she didn't find a way offworld soon, they were going to find her. Find her, bring her back, and make triply sure that she never slipped through their fingers again. What she needed was a - what were they called again? A fencejumper. That was what they called them in the holovids. Men and women who flew fast, heavily armed cargo ships in and out of places no one else would go, carrying goods someone wanted or needed badly and someone else would prefer they not receive. People who risked their lives and their freedom - for money. Well, Kerra had money enough. She'd downloaded her entire credit file. Nearly every credit she'd made in all the years since the Science Ministry had taken her from her family. To protect her, they'd said. From the sort of accident that had destroyed her mother's potential. What use had she had for money when she was never allowed to go anywhere? Surely she had enough by now to satisfy even the most mercenary of fencejumpers, and it was all stored electronically on one little datachip small enough to be worn on a slender chain beneath her clothing. Finding her fencejumper - that was the problem. Pilots-for-hire who operated outside the law probably didn't advertise in the local service directory. In fact, the only way there was likely to be any record of one on official channels was if - It was worth a try. After all, at this point she had very little left to lose. "Captain Locke? Captain Aden Locke?" Aden raised his eyes from the untouched drink into which he'd been staring and glared at the creature who'd dared disturb him. It had been so tempting to simply go back to drowning his brain cells, but he couldn't do it. It was one thing when the only life at stake were his, but... "Captain Locke?" his tormentor repeated, more tentatively this time. It was a child, a boy, not much older than six or seven. Way too young to be in here. "This is no place for a kid, son," Aden said. "I'm nobody for a kid to be talking to, for that matter." "But the lady said to give you this." The child held out a scrap of paper, once neatly folded - Aden could see the original creases - but now badly stained and crumpled. It looked like it had shared the kid's pocket with a half-eaten cookie and several dead bugs. Aden ignored it. "What lady?" "Just a lady," said the kid impatiently. That could mean any female over the age of twelve on the whole blessed planet. "Did this lady happen to have a name?" "Not that she told me, Cap'n." With a grunt of displeasure Aden took the note and shook it open. The text was concise:I need a pilot, you need a ship. Meet me at Dock 34, 17:30 hours. Aden's first instinct was to give the message back to the kid and tell him to throw it into the recycler. It could only be a trick, a way for Gandes to torture him a little more by raising his hopes only to have them shatter like a child's toy hit with a blaster beam. Nobody was going to hire a smuggler who'd been caught and lost his ship. It was absurd. Ridiculous. Crazy. It was also the only thing resembling a chance he was likely to get. "Captain?" the kid prompted. Aden dug into his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins, which he dropped in the boy's outstretched hand. As the boy dashed off, Aden gave his drink one last scowl and pushed it away. He read the message over at least a dozen times, studying it - the phrasing, the handwriting, the weight of the paper and the color of the ink - looking for the stamp of Gandes' twisted style and failing to find it. Just a simple note in a vaguely feminine hand on plain, unlined white paper. All singularly unrevealing. The only way Aden was going to find anything out was to make the rendezvous. If it was a trap, he'd find out soon enough. Kerra powered down theTalya 's computer, smiling in satisfaction. The ship was hers - well, Captain Locke's. A private yacht belonging to some wealthy dilettante, it had seen the top side of Divras Four's atmosphere a total of twice in the past ten years. It had been a simple matter to tap into the spaceport files and change the name on the ship's documents to that of the false identity she had already established for Captain Locke. Her conscience experienced an uncomfortable twinge at the thought of stealing the vessel, but it wasn't as if the owner had valued it. It might be months or years before he even realized it was gone. What worried Kerra most was their false identities. Sure, she'd worked with computers all her life. They'd been the tools of her trade, and her only link to the world outside the lab. But she'd certainly never used one to forge documents before. Heck, in the past few days she'd done quite a few things she had never expected to try. She glanced at the ship's chronometer. 17:24. A tall, rough-looking man was waiting for her when she emerged from the ship's main hatch. He greeted her with a curt nod before gesturing toward the ship. "Fancy. But does she have any teeth?" "Not so fast." Kerra said. "Your name, if you don't mind? And I.D. if they left you any." "Aden Locke. I believe you're expecting me." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a datacard, then watched warily as she scanned it. The text that scrolled across the card's surface indicated that this was indeed Aden Locke, and that he wasn't eligible to own a weapon, to pilot any orbital, suborbital, or extraplanetary craft, or to conduct any form of commerce while on Divras Four or in Divran-controlled space. Kerra nodded, satisfied, and handed the card back to him. He certainly didn't look like Internal Security, but she'd had to make sure. Though what she'd have done if he had been she couldn't have said. "The ship," Locke prompted. "Is she just another pretty face, or does she have some firepower?" Kerra shrugged. "She has defensive guns and standard shielding, and a good fast engine. She'll get us off the planet." "Us?" He raised one eyebrow. "That's the job. Fly the two of us off this planet and drop me off somewhere obscure and safe. The ship is yours to keep, over and above whatever you consider a reasonable fee." Captain Locke leaned against the ship's port engine pod and studied Kerra. It was not a comfortable experience. His ice-blue eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, but betrayed no clue as to what they saw there. He was an intimidating man - tall and unshaven, with wide, powerful shoulders. Scuffed pants of black leather hugged his well-toned thighs, and a loose black shirt hung open almost to the navel, revealing a broad expanse of chest that the word "muscular" couldn't begin to describe. His long, sandy hair hung loose around his shoulders, with one stray lock slipping forward from the rest to hang down just over his left eye. He wore no weapons - they would have been seized along with his original ship - but he seemed no less dangerous for their lack. He didn't bear much resemblance to the heroes of her beloved holovids. With his dark clothing and rugged appearance, he looked more like one of the villains. The kind of villain who'd be a serious danger to the heroine's virtue. Kerra's heart skipped a beat. "So, what's the catch?" Captain Locke's voice was a low, lazy drawl. "Catch?" Kerra asked. "Obviously there's a reason why you need someone of my talents - someone who doesn't mind bending a few inconvenient laws. You need to get offworld, and fast. Just what kind of trouble are you in?" "Does it matter?" Kerra tried to sound worldly and casual, with mixed success. No, no point in kidding herself. She failed miserably. "Yes, it matters. I don't work blind. The more I know about what I'm dealing with, the better I can deal with it. If that's a problem..." He let his voice trail off, but Kerra had no trouble hearing what he didn't say. Kerra nodded reluctantly. If he turned and ran after hearing her out, she probably wouldn't blame him. "Have you been following the newsvids? You've heard about a scientist who's wanted by Internal Security for stealing top-secret military research?" Captain Locke's eyes widened, but Kerra continued before he had a chance to speak. "That was me. But I stole nothing. I erased it. Every copy, every file, every note. It was my own work, and it was never intended as a weapon." Her throat burned as she spoke the words, but she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. Sweet shit,Aden swore inwardly, his heart coming up to lodge somewhere just south of his adam's apple.This kid's going to get me killed. He should have walked away, should have washed his hands of the girl and her problems and gone back to washing away his sorrows in a river of rotgut. He'd wanted a way out of this impossible situation, but he hadn't been planning to do it by dying. A single tear slipped from the corner of the girl's eye. Aden wasn't sure she even noticed it. Damn. With that solitary, orphan tear, suddenly she was real. For the first time, he realized how small she was. Had she not been standing on the ramp leading up into the ship, she would only have come up to his chest. Her fine-boned, delicate build was saved from pixyishness only by an unfashionable but not unappealing roundness at breast and hip. She was, he realized, very young. From what he knew about how things were done on this world, she had probably spent most of her life cloistered in some godforsaken Science Ministry think tank. Her disguise - the orange-striped hair, darkened skin and mirrored lenses virtually screamed "disguise" - wouldn't fool a maintenance robot. Get him killed - she very well might. Get herself killed, without his help - that was a given. And he did need a ship. "Thirty thousand," he said. "Up front. And you pull your weight - do what I say when I say it, and save your questions for later. If you managed to purge protected files from a government system, you're obviously good with computers. We'll need that, since I don't think this gilded crate of ours has the firepower to shoot our way out of a bad situation. Now, show me what we've got to work with." "I still wish we had the time and resources to upgrade the weapons and shields." Captain Locke sighed, sliding his long form into the pilot's seat four hours later. "The engines are the best that money can buy, but it's pretty clear that this was never a working ship." "But that's good, isn't it?" Kerra asked. "I mean, wouldn't they get suspicious if a pleasure craft had state-of-the-art offensive weaponry and combat shielding?" "There are ways of concealing illegal upgrades if you know what you're doing, Doc." The Captain had called her Dr.Telsier for a grand total of about three minutes. "Still, you've got a good point. I just feel kind of naked on a ship without teeth." Unbidden, an image of Captain Locke sitting naked in the pilot's chair flashed across the screen of Kerra's imagination, and blood rushed hotly to her cheeks. Her nerves were doing strange things to her mind. "Did you finish the adaptations on those false I.D.'s?" he asked her. "They have to match our disguises dead on." Kerra nodded. "I still don't think you look old enough to be my father, even with the gray in your hair." "Thanks, Doc, but remember, they marry young on Aldera, and you're small enough and cute enough to pass as a schoolgirl - if girls on Aldera were allowed to go to school, that is. Just remember to keep your veil on, and let me do the talking. Think meek and submissive. I beat you regularly to keep you that way." Kerra remembered her own father, a big, husky bear of a man whose rough, callused hands had felt so gentle and loving each time he touched her. In leaving Divras Four, she was giving up any chance of ever seeing him, or her mother, again. As well, she decided regretfully. How could she face them, knowing she'd destroyed the very research that could have helped her mother live a normal life again? Kerra glanced back over at Captain Locke in the seat beside her. His skin was now darkened to the same dusky shade as her own, his hair black with streaks of gray, his blue eyes disguised with brown lenses. Her coloring now matched his, less the gray hairs, and her features were further obscured by a gossamer veil that covered her nose and mouth, as well as most of her hair. "We should have straightened that hair, I guess, but I couldn't bring myself to do it," Locke confessed. Not knowing what to say, Kerra kept silent. "Okay, let's get this bucket airborne. Do you believe in God, Doc?" Kerra gave an eloquent shrug. "My father taught me to. I suppose I still do, deep down." "Good enough. I don't, so you'll have to do the praying for both of us." "Normally," Aden said as they rose through the planet's atmosphere, "I'd avoid the checkpoint, fly out under cloak, and be prepared to fight my way out if they managed to detect me. But since we don't have a cloak, or any weapons worthy of the name, we're going to have to be clever. These people are looking for you; they'll be more suspicious of any outgoing ship than they might normally be." Kerra nodded. "Captain - what if I could make it look like I was on another ship?" "What do you mean?" Aden was certainly open to suggestions. "I could project a false life sign reading. Maybe even plant the documents for my original false identity - the one you said they'd see right through - in their computer. It just might confuse the checkpoint authority long enough for us to get through." Aden stared at her, surprised at her ingenuity. "You can do that? Without a direct line into the other ship's system?" "I can tight-beam an electronic signal across space straight from our computer to theirs as long as there are no large physical barriers between us. The trick is to keep it from being detected. I suppose we could disguise it inside a normal communications signal, but that might make our target suspicious, being hailed by total strangers - " "Doc," Aden cut in softly, "call up the port manifest. We want the names of all other ships cleared for launch around the same time we were. There's a slim chance - " If they'd bothered to repair the main drive before selling her, instead of just scuttling his poor baby for parts... Kerra's gaze flicked toward him, her expression doubtful, but she did as he asked. The list scrolled up the tiny screen almost too swiftly for the human eye to follow. Still, Aden spotted what he was looking for, freezing the screen with the punch of a single key. He grinned wickedly. "I was wrong, Doc - there is a God." He stabbed a finger at the display. "There. That one. I knew that bastard couldn't resist!" "Red Lion. Wasn't that - " "My ship! My own blasted ship! He probably bought her at auction for a fraction of what she's worth - with that ship he could fly right into Beckhaven Station free and clear. Her arrival would set up a flag in the Net for Vaia and Jannia - they'd come right into his waiting arms, expecting it to be me! Thatbastard - that's the ship, Doc. And I know just what to say to the creep." "You got the package ready, Doc?" Kerra nodded. "You're not going to identify yourself, are you?" Captain Locke shot Kerra an offended look. "Gandes'll know who the message is from. That's what I'm counting on. If this goes the way I planned it, we might not even have to pass a visual check." He grinned devilishly, looking more like a holovid pirate than ever. "Heads up, Doc. We're approaching the checkpoint. I'll let you know when we have line-of-sight on theLion ." Kerra's heart pounded so hard that she half expected it to burst free from her body. This was it - there was no Plan B, and the thought of how many things could go wrong with Plan A made her head spin. "There she is, Doc. Wait - wait. There. Prepare to transmit when I start talking." Kerra's fingers hovered over the send key, her eyes on Captain Locke. He hailed his former ship, not bothering to await an answer. "Hello, Gandes. Just wanted you to know that you've failed, as usual." He nodded to Kerra, who activated the data beam. "Then again, you've always been a loser. That was why Vaia left you - you weren't man enough for her. They shouldn't have called what you did to Jannia rape. They should have called it assault with a dead weapon." Before Aden had even finished speaking, Gandes' ship veered off from the immense bulk of the checkpoint station. The sensors on Kerra's panel indicated that theRed Lion was bringing its entire powerful arsenal to bear on theTalya's undershielded hull. Just when Kerra was certain that her companion had made a horrible, suicidal mistake, sleek one- and two-man security boats poured out of the station and swarmed around the little freighter like hornets around a piece of rotting fruit. "They've taken the bait," Kerra hissed. "Let's get out of here." CHAPTER 2 "So tell me about this research of yours. Why risk both our lives to keep it out of your government's hands?" Aden leaned back in his seat, closing his dry, stinging eyes. This had to be the worst hangover in recorded history. As if that weren't bad enough, he was paying for the danger-induced adrenaline rush with bone-deep exhaustion. But he couldn't rest, not yet. There was still a course to be plotted. Work to be done on the weapons and shielding. He'd have to rip out both systems and start from scratch when he got the chance, but in the meantime there was probably some makeshift augmentation he could do. Maybe the Doc would have some ideas. From what he'd seen so far, she was nothing if not resourceful. "It was a medical procedure," Dr. Telsier said. Aden's eyes snapped open in startlement. She'd hesitated so long before answering his question he'd half-forgotten asking it. "What kind of medical procedure?" "A new treatment for neural damage using synthetic organics." Her soft voice was blank, dead, devoid of any pride in her accomplishment. "Synthetic organics?" Aden asked. "What's so damned subversive about that? I have half a dozen friends who've had body parts replaced by synthorgs." "Spinal columns? Damaged sections of brain?" "Of course not. Everybody knows that's impossible. Synthorg nerve structures that complex would start to break down within days." This time Aden did detect a smug gleam in the Doc's eye. "Don't tell me you actually found a way around that?" "By completely reinventing the technology from the ground up," she confirmed. "The flaws that led to the neural degradation were intrinsic to the original procedures." "So why did you have to delete the research?" Aden asked. "Somebody have other ideas about how to use it? The newsvids called it a military secret." "They government laboratory that sponsored my work did have a military mandate," Telsier admitted. She shook her head, as if unable to believe her own stupidity. "I was naive enough to think they were looking for a way to cure neural damage inflicted on soldiers in the line of duty. But what they really wanted was to create living neural systems from scratch. To build a new kind of soldier from the ground up, designed and programmed to have no purpose in life other than to obey orders. To create an abomination with no soul, no conscience. I couldn't allow that. Not even if it meant my work can never be used for its intended purpose." "That can't have been any easy choice to make," Aden offered quietly. "It was the hardest thing I have ever done." Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper. Her eyes looked lost, haunted. Aden wanted to take the girl into his arms, to hold and stroke and comfort her. It was an alien sensation, this powerful tenderness. It caught him off guard, stealing the breath from his body. He wanted to flee, to run, to put half the galaxy between them as fast as possible. But right now, there was nowhere to go. Nowhere very far, at any rate. He rose, making a show of stretching, and headed for his cabin, pausing only briefly at the hatchway leading off little ship's bridge. "I think I'm going to go put my own face back on, Doc. You might want to do the same. 'Cause I'm beginning to doubt you could pass for a meek, submissive Alderian girl after all." The face staring back at Kerra from the mirror in her quarters was, at last, her own. The thick, frothy tumble of golden curls never seemed to do what she wanted it to - Captain Locke's words came back to her, eliciting an involuntary blush. Her hair had always seemed like a curse to her, forever falling into her eyes when she was trying to work, tangling mercilessly when she tried to brush it out. Yet Captain Locke, so meticulous in every other element of their disguises, had felt compelled to leave her her curls. It was incomprehensible. And yet - she could have sworn that there had been a moment, just before he'd left the bridge, when he had looked at her as if... No. It wasn't possible. It was foolishness even to let the thought enter her mind. How could a man like Aden Locke feel any attraction to someone like her? Raised half her life on some run-down old farm and the other in a cloistered research facility that might as well have been a convent, she was probably the least worldly, least glamorous person he'd ever encountered. Her skin, milk-pale from too little time in the sunshine, seemed all the whiter now that she had grown accustomed to the dusky false pigment. Only her eyes gave her face any trace of color. Blue. Nothing exotic there. No, any beauty Aden might see in her came only from the fact that she had provided the means of their mutual escape. Was she really so love-starved as to start projecting romantic fantasies on the first attractive male she ran into? Turning away from the mirror, Kerra rose and crossed the width of the cabin that had become hers by default, Captain Locke having appropriated the larger one. It hardly mattered. There was little significant difference between the two; both had seemed ridiculously plush for a scruffy-looking fencejumper and an overachieving farmer's daughter. The duvet on the wide, inviting berth was a rich, deep velvety green, the two overstuffed chairs flanking the large oval viewport a swirling pattern of the same green intermixed with rich blues and golds. The cabin Captain Locke had chosen was, if she recalled correctly, done dramatically in black and red. She found herself wondering how it suited him. An odd, bell-like note sounded in her ears, startling Kerra from her reverie. It repeated itself after a moment's pause, and Kerra realized that she was hearing her door signal. The one at the lab had sounded with a raspy, irritating buzz; this was much nicer. "Come in, Captain," she called. The door slid open silently - another improvement - and Captain Locke stepped into the room. He wore the same outfit he had been wearing when she first saw him. His hair was now tied back with a thin leather cord, but Kerra noted with a smile that one lock of hair had escaped and still hung rakishly over his left eye. The shirt was now partially fastened, but still gaped at the neck. Kerra's fingers tingled with the urge to touch the narrow vee of muscled chest left exposed. Clad once more in what she was beginning to think of as his pirate uniform, he looked at once dangerously predatory and incredibly tempting. Stop it, Kerra, she told herself sternly. Such thoughts were completely inappropriate. In a very short time, she would part company from this man and, in all likelihood, never set eyes on him again. With a formidable act of will, she forced all thoughts of the Captain's admittedly considerable sex appeal to the rearmost corners of her mind. "What can I do for you, Captain?" "Well, to start with, you can try calling me Aden. Seems a little silly to stand on ceremony with a man who's already seen the inside of your bedroom." Kerra's stomach fluttered as if she'd swallowed a hummingbird. So much for her valiant attempt at composure. "Hey, I'm sorry," he said hastily, and Kerra was aghast to realize her discomfort had shown on her face. "That didn't come out the way I meant it. I just - I mean - look, even at hyperlight speeds, it's going to take a while to get where we're going. We're going to have to be shipmates for at least another few weeks. And I'm really not a formal kind of guy." Kerra nodded agreement. "So where are we going?" she asked him. "My home base - an independently owned and operated space station called Beckhaven, about three weeks' travel from here." "I hadn't really planned on such a long trip," Kerra protested. "I'm kind of anxious to put all this behind me. Isn't there a safe planet any closer?" "Probably," Aden answered. "But you never specified any time frame for this drop-off when you hired me, Doc, and I am operating on a deadline here. That guy we just provoked is an old enemy of mine from way back, with a major grudge against some friends of mine. They need to be warned. It's been a long time - I thought we'd seen the last of him." "How dangerous is he?" Kerra asked, a sick feeling rising within her as an unwelcome realization began to form. "What's going on between you? Your transmission - you said something about a rape." "It was a little more than a rape, Doc. There was also some creative work done with a knife. Jannia almost died, and, as it was, she had to spend weeks in regenerative therapy. She's never been the same since. It's almost as if she did die that night, and someone else came to take her place." "Why?" Kerra asked, knowing that no explanation could possibly make sense to her. "Because his partner - his lover - had left him, and made Jannia her partner instead. He could have punished Vaia directly, but he knew this would hurt her even more." "It sounds like you and your friends are the ones with a reason to want revenge," Kerra said. "We took our revenge long ago," Aden replied. "But it wasn't enough. We should have killed him while we had the chance. Now he's back, and madder than ever - in more ways than one." The certainty that had begun to form as Aden spoke solidified, and Kerra's throat grew tight and dry with dread. "He's the one who arranged to have you grounded, isn't he? He wanted you helpless, knowing he was going after your friends and there was nothing you could do." She swallowed, tasting bile. "Then I came into the picture." All trace of color left Aden's face. "Shit. You're right. And there's no way he doesn't know you're involved. We even sent him your picture. Damn. I didn't even think - I didn't plan for you to get mixed up in this." "It's all right, Aden," Kerra assured him softly. "It wouldn't have mattered. You were my best chance to get offworld. And at least if this Gandes fellow kills us both, my research will die with me." Aden shook his head slowly, rejecting Kerra's words. "You don't get it, Doc. Gandes is a sick, twisted man. If he can, he'll do far more than just kill you." His blue eyes fixed on hers, naked and intense. "I'll kill you myself before I let that happen, but I may not have the chance." "Thank you," said Kerra dryly. "Your promise to kill me makes me feel ever so much better." Aden grinned humorlessly. "Welcome to the business, Dr. Telsier. It's a dirty life, but at least it's short." Aden wasn't sure what he'd meant at the time, when he'd welcomed Kerra into the business. He certainly hadn't intended to imply any sort of long-term partnership between them. The very idea was ludicrous. She was a client, a passenger, nothing more. Obviously he couldn't abandon her in their current situation, but once Gandes was dealt with... Dealt with properly, this time. Once Gandes was dead, Aden could fulfill his contract to Kerra, leave her behind on some quiet little world where she could make a new life for herself. That had, after all, been their agreement. It had not changed, only been postponed a little. Still, in the two weeks since they'd made good their escape from her homeworld, she'd been just about the best partner a man could ask for. She learned fast -of course she learns fast, she's a genius, isn't she? - and considered no task beneath her dignity. She'd already figured out a way to increase the shields' effectiveness by another thirty percent using just what they had on hand. She'd grasped the technicalities of piloting in more than three dimensions faster than anyone he had ever known. Best of all - and this shocked him - he had actually managed to spend several days alone together in close quarters without wanting to strangle her. Might have been easier, in some ways, had it been otherwise. "How long do you think Gandes was detained?" Kerra asked, her voice breaking into Aden's thoughts. He hesitated a moment before answering her. "I'd like to believe weeks, but the fact is they probably released him the moment they realized you weren't on board. But as much as it pains me to admit it, oldTalya here is a good bit faster than myLion . Contrary to what those ridiculous holovid stories of yours may have told you, most ships in the business have sacrificed some of their speed to channel more energy into the shields and weapons. I want the specs on how you boosted our shielding without bleeding the engines, by the way. I have a few friends who'd trade me major favors for that trick." "Hey, I'm not a physicist's daughter for nothing." "I thought you said your dad was a farmer," Aden said. "I did. My mother is a physicist - or used to be." Aden laughed easily, unable to resist the temptation. "She was just a physicist's daughter, but man, did she have energy!" Kerra rolled her eyes and groaned at the sexist joke, aiming a punch at Aden's middle. He blocked it easily, catching her hand and twisting it up behind her, pulling her back sharply up against his chest. He released her before she experienced more than the most fleeting moment's pain. Before his own body could get any ideas. A little bit of friendly horsing around was one thing - "So you think we're still ahead of him," Kerra said, continuing as if the subject had never changed. She was not one to be distracted for long when she had something on her mind. "Yes, but I don't know by how much. I just hope the girls are in-station. The more time we have to prepare, the better." "What if they're not?" Kerra asked. "Then we leave them a message on the station's bulletin-board system, coded for direct transmission to their private flat the moment the station's security grid detects their ship. Once warned, they can take care of themselves. We'll also have to warn old Beck to cancel landing clearance on my old ship." Aden sighed. "I wish we could tell how far ahead we are, but it's not possible to track another ship in hyperspace." "Which is good, from one perspective," Kerra pointed out. "It means my people can't track us to Beckhaven. I'd rather not have to deal with them, as well as with Gandes." "Divran Internal Security can't touch you now, anyway," Aden told her. "The moment you passed outside the confines of the Divras system, you were beyond the jurisdiction of planetary authorities. That's one of my favorite points of interstellar law." He grinned. "Of course, if you were ever stupid enough to go back..." "Not much chance of that," Kerra vowed. "Of course, they always have the option of going through unofficial channels," Aden continued. "You'd probably be worth a lot to an enterprising bounty hunter." "Well, that's a cheerful thought," Kerra muttered. "Aden, I've been thinking - " "That could be dangerous." "Cut it out, Aden." Kerra ran a small hand through her thick hair. "I've been thinking about the nature of hyperspace travel. The fluid quality of time in hyperspace, specifically." "Go on." "There might be a way to alter our temporal course, to move backward in time while still moving forward in space. That way, we could arrive at Beckhaven in only a few hours even though it takes us another few days of subjective time to fly there." Aden frowned. "The ship's systems aren't designed to do that, Doc. There are failsafes built in designed specifically to minimize temporal deviations. Navigating the time stream is tricky work - without the failsafes, a ship could find itself lost a thousand years in the future, or a hundred in the past. I don't like it, Doc." "I don't want to disable the failsafes, Aden. Just adjust them a little. Think of it as a way to make theTalya thirty percent faster without expending any more energy." "Kerra, you're a physicist's daughter, not a physicist. Bright as you are, there are things about the subject you don't know, and I can't help you, because I know even less. What you're suggesting is a big risk." "So is letting Gandes arrive right on our tail." Aden let out a low growl. "Okay. Do it." Three hours later, Kerra was literally crying with frustration. The theory of it had seemed so simple - and if she'd had a few months time and a fully equipped and staffed temporal physics lab, along with a qualified research partner, she'd probably be able to cobble something together. As it was... "Dammit! Itold him I could do this! Ihave to be able to do this!" Her throat ached with the effort to force back tears. Her mother could have done it, she was sure - the pain that rose within her at that thought was all but unbearable. "Doc. Kerra." Aden's voice, coming from the hatch that separated the bridge from the living quarters, was firm, authoritative. "Take a break." "But we don't have time - " "I could hear you yelling at yourself right over the shower, Doc. You're no good to us like this. Take a break. Get yourself some lunch and a cup of something hot, and lock yourself in your cabin for an hour. No one, not even you, can think straight when they're as churned up as you are now." Kerra turned to look at him, and had to catch her breath. He'd emerged from the shower at the sound of her voice, stopping only long enough to wrap a towel around his hips. This concealed the most intimate part of him, but left much exposed. His broad, muscled chest, for instance, gleaming with moisture - jewel-like droplets of water caught in the fine, curling nest of hairs between his pectorals. Kerra realized she was staring, and quickly looked away. "Sorry, Doc," said Aden quietly. "I guess I'm not used to being with women I haven't - been with." Kerra glanced back tentatively, to find him watching her, his eyes dark with something for which she had no name. She opened her mouth to speak, but had no idea what she wanted to say. "Make sure you take that break," he said. Then he was gone. Kerra stared out at the swirling, many-colored chaos outside her viewport, her thoughts drifting. There were no stars visible in hyperspace, a fact that had at first surprised and disturbed her. Now, she was learning to find beauty in the void's iridescent strangeness. It wasn't difficult to see how a man like Aden could fall in love with this - this place between places, this nowhere that was everywhere. To be alone with eternity - Kerra hit the controls with the side of her hand, switching off the viewport. She had to remember that Aden was a smuggler. He broke the law for a living. A dangerous man with equally dangerous enemies, he was about as likely to spend his time gazing yearningly out viewports as she was to suddenly sprout a tail. He wasn't anything like the fencejumpers in all those holovids and books - had laughed, not unkindly, when he first heard her use the term, telling her he was a smuggler, plain and simple, and had never met a "fencejumper" in his life. She understood now what he meant. The characters in all those stories were all so - so slick, so polished, too charming to be real, because they weren't real. Aden - now he was real. Real, solid, tangible, and totally impossible to ignore. He seemed to steal the very air from a room, so Kerra could barely breathe in his presence, and just the sound of his voice was enough to make her heart beat faster. When she was alone, she craved his company the way a hungry child craves sweets, and when he was there, the sheer force of his presence energized every cell in her body. Was this what desire felt like? If so, it was by no means a comfortable sensation. Sometimes when he looked at her, it was like someone had set her on fire. He wanted her, too. She was sure of it now, although she still didn't understand why. It was there in his eyes when he looked at her, in the way he would touch her, just for a moment, and then take his hand away as if she'd burned him. Yes, he wanted her. But he had no intention of taking what he wanted. Aden stared out his viewport at the swirling iridescence outside, but for once it brought him no peace. She was there, just across the corridor. He could go to her. He could have her, right there on that too-soft berth. He'd seen the way she looked at him, the longing in her eyes. She was already his if he chose to take her. Hell, she wasn't even his type. He liked his women long and lithe, and as experienced as he was. Kerra was - nothing like that. She was so small he half imagined she might break in his arms if he held her too tight. He shouldn't be thinking these things. She was so damned young, not much more than half his age. If she felt anything for him, it was no more than the allure of the forbidden, because she had to know, as he did, that a sheltered innocent like Kerra had no business with a man like him. His lifestyle had already put her in danger, and if they both came through the coming showdown alive, he was going to leave her, just as they'd planned right from the start. He wouldn't make that parting any harder than it had to be. He had to stay away from her, for both their sakes. "I can't do it." Kerra said later, taking her seat beside Aden on the bridge. Aden could see in Kerra's eyes how much the admission cost her. "You did the best you could, Doc," he said. It was a cliché, he knew, and an inadequate one. It was also the truth. "My name," she snapped irritably, "is Kerra." She leaned back in her seat, letting her head fall back against the headrest, and closed her eyes. "I'm not just a brain with legs, you know." "Believe me, Doc - Kerra - I never thought you were. You, on the other hand..." Impulsively, he leaned across the space between them and took her hand. Touching her brought an unwelcome shock of awareness, and part of him wanted to let go, but he tightened his grip instead. "That was all they let you be, wasn't it?" "That was all I let myself be, I guess. My work was everything to me - and now it's gone, and I don't know who I am any more." She let out a long, shuddering sigh. "I don't know either, Kerra," Aden said. With his free hand he brushed away the tears welling up in her bright blue eyes. "But I think I like her." Excerpt fromThe Promise of Kierna'Rhoan ======================================= by Isabo Kelly ISBN 1-55316-065-7 ================== Copyright © 2000 I've always wondered what I would do if there came a time to stand against society, to stand for something...something important. Something that mattered. Would I have the courage to fight for a belief? To defend an ideal with my very life? To kill for a cause? That last has always been the hardest question for me to answer. In my imagination, my life is easier to give away than the taking of another life. But that's in theory. Who knows what we might do in practice? ======================================= · From the journal of Kira Farseaker CHAPTER 1 "Kira?" "Hush," Kira hissed over her shoulder, never taking her eyes from the roadblock ahead. "Keep your heads about you," she told the four women in the back of the van. "They can't know if you don't give us away." Kira studied the stiff navy uniforms of the Guards, her practiced eye hunting for the familiar face. He was there. She knew he would be there somewhere. This blockade had his mark. Convulsively her hands clenched the rough steering wheel. By force of will, she relaxed both her grip and her shoulders. He wouldn't break her. Not now. And he wouldn't find her out. They inched forward in the long line of vehicles, most the latest in synthesized transport - clean, efficient, small and cheap - toward the handful of Guards at the roadside. The day was bright with late autumn sun reflecting off the cars and the tarmac paving of the road, glittering in the rust sand that peeked between the long, low buildings edging this side of the city. Beyond the buildings, the land was covered with a mix of palms, succulent shrubs and sparse, patchy salt grass. At this southern edge of the city, the faintest hint of sea scent wafted in the breeze. This was the kind of day that Kira had loved as a child. Warm, but with the hint of winter to come. Days for playing in the backyard, or running on the beach with her father. Now, she barely noted the sparse clouds scuttling across the azure sky, or the late autumn flowers that still purpled the white salt grass. Her attention was focused entirely on the roadblock ahead - and searching the Guards for that too-familiar face. Seemingly at random, the Guard on the left signalled and sent vehicles off to a side area, near a hastily erected portable office, for closer inspection. The passengers of the vehicles were asked to step over to a second group of Guards for further questioning. Kira felt her lip curl in a snarl. All very efficient. All very organized, and outwardly by the book. She forced her mouth back to a straight, expressionless line. Ten years ago, she wouldn't have been bothered by this scene. It was routine. The Guards were free to randomly inspect the citizens of Narava for contraband, drugs, illegal goods, interplanetary imports, immigrants trying to avoid taxes and fees, aliens. The Shifters. No. Ten years ago, she wouldn't have been bothered. Because ten years ago there was so much she didn't know. They reached the forward Guard, and Kira prepared herself for the inevitable questions. She didn't bother to smile or flirt. The Guard, a man in his late fifties, wore the familiar signet on his uniform. He already knew who she was. "Farseaker," he greeted without inflection. His gaze traveled over her face, then into the back of the van, taking in the four other women. "Officer Herot," Kira returned. She didn't know the man, not well, but she had seen him before, dealt with him before. "You know the drill, Farseaker. Contraband? Illegals?" She couldn't help the cynical smile that answered his questions. He already knew her answers. "What do you think, Officer?" "I think you've been skirting the law for too long now, Farseaker. He knows you're involved with them. Deeply involved." "If he had any proof that I was involved in something illegal," she said evenly, "he would have had me locked away in a hole a very long time ago, Herot. And he would relish putting me there." The Guard's thick dark brows drew together over a prominent nose. His thin lips pursed for an instant, then flattened. "Pull the van over to the side," he said, gesturing to the second set of Guards. "They'll have to be questioned further," he nodded to the four in the back, "and the van will be inspected." "Of course." Kira didn't argue. She pulled the van to the side, hissing another silencing order as a nervous chatter started behind her. "Remember," she said under her breath, "they don't know anything. Can't know anything. Just keep your heads and we'll be all right." "Kira?" She looked over her shoulder at the sound of the timid voice. Vettine was only nineteen years old. Her cropped blonde hair and heart-shaped face gave her an ethereal beauty, but her deep jade eyes were wide with fear, making her look every year of her youth. "You'll be okay, little sister," Kira assured her with a firm voice. "Don't panic on me now." The girl took a long, shaky breath, straightened her shoulders and nodded. "Good girl," Kira murmured as a Guard walked up to the passenger side of the van. This Guard was a man she'd never seen before. He was young, but not too young. Midthirties, she guessed at a glance. Handsome, but far from pretty. A faint scar along his right jaw and the first few wrinkles of his age saw to that. His short, brown hair held just a touch of wave. His black- coffee eyes were hard and efficient. But there was something... Something in his eyes. Something familiar, that she couldn't name. Maybe it was an underlying quality of pain, or the hint of humanity she so rarely found in the Guard. Whatever it was, it was absent from the firm line of his mouth, the set of his jaw, the sharp movement of his arm as he gestured the four women behind her out of the van's side door. Whatever it was, he hid it well. When Kira turned to open her own door, he stopped her. "You're to wait in the car, ma'am," he told her sternly. And Kira almost smiled. He had a beautiful, husky voice. A voice she wouldn't mind hearing more of. Her stomach twisted just a little, pleasantly reminding her that she was still a woman. Her gaze dropped to his chest, a rather nice, broad one she thought, before noticing the signet above his left breast. Her self-control snapped back into place. She turned, sitting forward in the van, watching as her four friends were led not far away by a half-dozen fully armed soldiers. She tried to relax against the seat, tried to ignore the inconvenient tear in the imitation leather that poked her in the back. This could take hours, if Ennoren saw fit to detain them. The sound of the passenger door opening startled her. She looked over to see the Guard settle himself onto the floorboard, shifting so that his head wouldn't show above the dash. Kira cocked her head to one side, raising her eyebrows, and the man flashed the most charming smile she'd ever seen. The grin was just a touch guilty, and would have made him look like a mischievous boy if it hadn't stretched the scar and deepened the wrinkles around his eyes. He plucked a pack of cigarettes from a pocket inside his uniform jacket and showed them to her. "Not allowed to smoke on duty," he told her as he tapped one from the pack and stuck it in his mouth. He replaced the pack and pulled out a small lighter while staring up at her. Before he lit up, he extended a hand. "David." "Kira." She shook his hand, quick and firm, and pulled her hand back before she had time to notice how nice his grip felt. He lit the cigarette, took a long drag, then offered the end to her. She stared at the thing for a moment, then took it and helped herself to a puff. Through the cloud of tobacco-scented smoke she blew out, she studied him. "You been with the Guard long?" she asked, handing the cigarette back. "Twelve years now." He took another drag, never taking his gaze from her face. "You're one of Ennoren's." She wasn't asking. She knew the signet on his uniform too well. He nodded, his dark eyes still locked to hers. "For about three years." She half-smiled, chuckled and shook her head. "Too bad, really," she said, turning to see how her friends were doing. All four seemed to be holding up under the scrutiny of the men questioning them. Vettine's shoulders were straight, her posture unwavering. Grainne's stance was relaxed and cocky as she tossed her waist-length red hair over one shoulder. Breeanne had her arms crossed over her chest, her legs braced slightly apart. Her pale skin was flushed, but her expression controlled. And Jo, with her stylishly braided black hair brushing her shoulders in the breeze, had her hands on her hips, a slight smile on her full mouth, and a sexy glint in her violet eyes. Kira couldn't help smiling. Her second would flirt with the Devil himself if she were standing at the gates of hell. "Why too bad?" The husky voice brought her attention back to the man sitting on the floorboard of her van. He offered her the cigarette again, and she took a long drag before answering. "I would have liked to get to know you. Under better circumstances. I think I could have liked you," she answered without guile, a slight, sad smile tugging at her mouth. "'Could have'?" She shrugged. "You're one of Ennoren's men." She looked away again, thinking there was really no need for further explanation. "Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions? Judging me based on the Commander I work under? You don't know me." Kira snorted and looked into his handsome, upturned face. "It doesn't matter whether I know you or not. You work for Ennoren." A movement to her left caught her attention, and she turned away from David's narrowed eyes. She reached down for the cigarette without taking her eyes off the man walking toward the van. When she'd taken another drag, she said, "Your boss is on his way over. Better let me finish this." David stood, unhooked a thin, foot-long cylindrical device from his belt and began running it over the interior of the van without another word. Her gaze flicked to the device, then back to the approaching Commander. The steady beep of the detector echoed in Kira's pulse as she watched Ennoren step up to her open window. He was tall and thin, with a face Kira had once found interesting, if not attractive. All lines and angles, sharp nose, hard mouth, heavy-lidded blue eyes; his face was imposing, commanding and often intimidating. But Kira had long since stopped being intimidated by Ennoren. He looked at the cigarette in her hand, then into her eyes. "I thought you didn't smoke." She set the cigarette against her lips, inhaled deeply and blew smoke in his face. "I don't." He waved the smoke away, a sneer forming in place of a smile. For a long moment he studied her, his eyes running over her faded, ripped jeans, the cotton flannel shirt, her amber hair where it brushed her shoulders. Then he turned to study her van, pointedly staring at the cracked dash, battered steering wheel and worn imitation leather upholstery. "New van?" Kira nodded. "I didn't think you'd be into this late twentieth-century Earth fad, either," he said through a frown. "But then, you always were a fashionable socialite, weren't you? And since you have the money to afford this mock-up of an Earth car..." He let the sentence trail off as he looked back into her eyes. "You're looking good, Kira." She stared back, taking another pull on the cigarette so that she didn't have to answer him. When she remained silent, Ennoren shifted his gaze to David. "Find anything, Officer Cario?" David straightened, snapping to attention. "No, sir. Appears clean." "Well," Ennoren said, turning a contemptuous look on Kira, "appearances can lie." "Was that a dig, Eain?" Kira said, keeping her tone mild, even as she used his first name in front of another Guard - something she did only to annoy him. His mother had been a poet and fond of alliteration. Ennoren went out of his way to keep his full name, Eain Edward Evander Ennoren, from his subordinates. He covered his indignation well, but the slight narrowing of his eyes and the flare of his nostrils gave him away. "Take from it what you will." He paused, studied her again. When he spoke, his voice was low. "The ring will collapse out from under you, Kira. It won't be long now. Do you know what will happen to you when you're found guilty of treason and conspiracy to commit treason against the planetary government?" "They'll throw me into a hole?" "They'll throw you into space without a suit," he hissed. Dropping his voice again, he leaned into the car, putting his face only inches from hers. "End this now, Kira. End it. Tell me where they hide. I can see that you get off with a light sentence." A slight smile curled his lips. "I might even arrange to serve as your paroler. Just like old times, eh?" Kira turned her head to take one final puff off the cigarette, time to gain control over both her revulsion and her anger, before turning back to his leer. "There's a reason those times are old, Eain. I wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of divorcing you if I'd wanted to end up right back under your thumb. Besides," she half smiled, half snarled at him, "how would I know where they hide?" She watched with satisfaction as his leer turn into a lip-trembling scowl. Flicking the cigarette past his shoulder, she turned back to David. He was standing at attention, a silent, emotionless witness to the scene. "Forgive my ex.," Kira said to the handsome man. "He seems to think I'm some sort of underground anti-government terrorist leader." David raised an eyebrow. "Are you?" She smiled. Then she laughed. The side door to the van opened and Kira's four friends climbed up to the padded bench along the side of the van. Kira kept her eyes on David's, enjoying the twinkle of amusement that didn't filter into any other part of his expression. When the side door slammed into place, Kira leaned across the passenger seat and pulled that door shut. "It really is too bad we didn't meet under different circumstances, officer," she said when David leaned into the open window. His half-smile made his scar jump, his knowing stare made her pulse dance. She chuckled and moved back behind the wheel. Without another glance at her ex-husband, she put the van into gear and returned to the line of traffic hurrying away from the blockade. David watched her go, feeling like he'd been kicked in the gut, and strangely liking the feeling. Kira was interesting. Beautiful, yes. Enough so that his pulse sped just remembering her golden-brown eyes and the sound of her sultry chuckle. But there was something else about her, under that smile and sharp attitude, that he wanted to get to know better. Something that was almost familiar. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had caught his attention, or his lust, this way. He wasn't even sure if another woman had before this woman. That was one of the few things in the universe that managed to frighten him. But anyone who could make Commander Ennoren lose control was worth getting to know. Whether she scared him or not, Ennoren's ex-wife could prove to be quite valuable. His heart stopped for a single beat when the Commander cleared his throat from right beside him. David looked to see Ennoren also staring after the rapidly retreating van. "Don't let her pretty face fool you, Officer Cario," Ennoren said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "She's not as sweet as she appears. A viper lives beneath that silky skin." Knowing it best to keep his opinions to himself, David studied his commander's profile. His nostrils flared, but other than that, his sharp features were now composed and emotionless. Before David could look away, Ennoren turned on him, catching and holding his gaze. "You don't believe me, Cario?" "I have no opinion on the matter, Commander." Ennoren smiled. "Yes, you do." He cocked his head to one side, studied David's face with eyes that saw beneath outward expression. The stare was disconcerting, but David had faced and hidden from it before. "Doesn't matter. Because I think I can use this situation to our benefit, David." He turned away and began walking toward the temporary offices. "In my office, Cario," Ennoren ordered, and David fell in step just behind him. "We've got a few things to discuss." Kira pulled past the front drive of her house and into a narrow lane at the edge of her property. The lane was flanked by thick stone walls covered in ivy, and overhung by rows of dense, leafy trees. The entrance to the lane was so overgrown by foliage, it was almost impossible to see unless you knew where to look. This lane led to the family garage, and only Kira used it now. Visitors used the front drive. Friends had other ways to get in. When she'd been a child, she'd thought the lane, with its cover and solitude, a silly addition to the estate. But her father had liked his privacy, coveted it more and more as the years went by. Kira hadn't understood that need for privacy. She hadn't believed it was right for people to hide behind walls. But then, she'd been an open and curious child, a guileless adult. Until her father's death. She stopped the van halfway up the lane, puffing out a breath. She didn't have time to dwell on all the changes in her life. There was too much still to do. She opened her door and followed the others to stand a few paces in front of the van. The transformation never ceased to amaze Kira. One moment, a perfectly ordinary van sat in the lane. The next, a beautiful, iridescent, hairless creature stood staring at them. Its huge multifaceted eyes whirled through purple to blue to green as it tilted its otherwise featureless head to one side. The long lines of neck and limbs made the creature appear taller and far thinner than it actually was, but since it could shift to most any visible shape, its body dimensions were relative. That was close. Kira smiled at its whispery voice floating through her mind. No matter their emotional state, the Shifters' voices always sounded quiet to her.Not as close as that, Xep. He never suspected. A human-like mouth formed in the iridescent gold skin of Xep's face. The mouth turned up in a mocking smile. Though they did have a form of external hearing, Shifters had no natural mouths or vocal cords. They could only speak using telepathy when in their natural state. And only a very few humans could hear and speak back in the same manner. But Xep was fond of shifting just enough to convey all too human facial expressions.He suspects, Kira. the Shifter said as the mouth melted away. But he doesn't suspect this. He doesn't suspect Shifters like you exist, Xep. Jo reached behind a thick clump of ivy and tapped a code into a hidden panel, opening a disguised passage in the stone wall leading to the interior of Kira's estate. The group ducked through the overhanging ivy and the door closed silently behind them. They walked over short, spongy green grass to a second secret hatch in the ground. This time, using her foot, Vettine tapped out the code that opened the door. After a short pause, a section of grass slid over with a hiss of escaping air. All six dropped down the ladder into a steel-lined tunnel, and Kira tapped in the code at a command panel to close the hatch again. They turned and walked down the tunnel, lights overhead flicking on as they approached, flicking off once they passed.Kira, Xep's quiet voice touched her mind,It will not be long before he discovers. Ennoren is a smart man. A cunning human. And he is vicious. Kira nodded, silently considering Xep's words. She knew Ennoren was vicious, had seen it firsthand. Had run away from it in disgust and anger. And she knew he was clever. But she was clever, too.We're almost ready, Xep. We can hide from him until then. She looked at the Shifter walking beside her, hoping to catch some sign of emotion in a face she couldn't read unless it allowed her.This won't be easy, Xep. Nothing has been easy since the humans first came here. Though no emotion came across in its mind-speak, Kira imagined the bitterness associated with that statement and it made her heart hurt. She closed off her emotional response forcefully and turned her attention to the tunnel ahead of her. She couldn't change what had been done to the Shifters in the past, and she couldn't save all of them now. But she could sure as hell try to save some of them. He seemed very nice.21Xep's quick subject change caught Kira so by surprise that she stopped for an instant. The odd looks the other women gave her started her moving again with an embarrassed grimace. Ennoren?she asked. Officer David Cario. He seemed very nice. An uncontrollable picture burst into Kira's mind of coffee-dark eyes, thick, dark hair and a dancing scar. Her stomach clenched and a tingle spread over her thighs. It had been much too long since she'd last been with a man, she thought ruefully.He's one of Ennoren's , Kira told the Shifter, forcing her mind-speak to sound stern.It doesn't matter if he's the nicest man on Narava. He was quite taken with you. And you with him. And you're an expert on the subject, aren't you, Xep?Kira thought at the Shifter irritably.How would you know anyway? Kira looked at Xep. The mouth that had formed in its face was grinning at her. She snorted and turned away, hoping Xep hadn't seen her blush.Stuff it, Xep. Kira muttered. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn the Shifter chuckled at her. CHAPTER 2 Kira stood at the edge of the elaborately carved red stone bridge, trying to slow her thumping heartbeat. The public transport line stopped just at the edge of the Grand Bridge. She was the only one who'd gotten off. No government-funded transport dared cross that bridge. Visitors were left to walk into the Docks - at their own risk. She'd crossed that bridge before, walked the gray flagstone streets of a city built above the Dreic Sea and supported by wooden pillars sunk into the sediment below. She'd even dealt with some of the less than lawful citizens of the Docks. But always during the day. Night settled over the area, dark and forbidding. The moons had yet to rise, leaving only the stars and the glow from the city to light the bridge. She hesitated for a minute more; but it was too late. She couldn't back out now. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her black cropped jacket, Kira stepped onto the bridge. "Do you think that's a good idea?" The unexpected voice made her gut clench and her hands shake for just an instant. She fisted her left hand, letting her short nails bite into the flesh of her palm. She was in control again when she turned to face the stranger cautioning her. Recognizing the face made her smile and relax her hand; then her smile dropped to a suspicious frown. "What are you doing here?" David stepped from the shadows just across the road and strode toward her. He wasn't in uniform, but there was still a formality to the way he wore his loose black pants and tight turtleneck shirt. His black leather jacket was a nod to the current fashion fad, but it looked too new and clean. "I should ask you the same question," he said in that smoky voice she found so toe-curling. "This place isn't safe at night." His dark gaze lingered on the red mini-dress and red calf-high boots she wore. "I've been here before." She raised her chin, a small smile touching her mouth. "And this isn't exactly a place where the Guard are welcome." "I'm not on duty tonight. And we're not forbidden entrance." "That still doesn't explain why you're here." "Maybe I'm looking for something...hard to obtain." Kira narrowed her eyes. The Docks were notorious for providing things "hard to obtain." The city was run by a family of very powerful and very dangerous criminals. The government called them a mafia. They bought and sold illegals, smuggled goods and people, ran gaming and prostitution rings, auctioned slaves, both alien and human, pandered to the drugs and technology trades, and all in the open streets and canals of the Docks. The Guard didn't go into the city - officially. Government propaganda had it that the encroachment of the law into the well-established city would only start a bloody, vicious war. As long as the criminal element remained localized in the Docks, they were no danger to the citizenry. Common gossip vouched that the Mafia paid high-placed officials well to keep the law out of the city. Common gossip also held that the Mafia possessed certain alliances and weapons that scared even the "all-powerful" planetary government. "I wouldn't have taken you for a Docks patron," Kira said at last, still not convinced of David's excuse. "I wouldn't have guessed it of you, either," he countered. "I haven't heard your explanation yet." She bristled at the underlying order. It came dangerously close to reminding her of her ex- husband. The man, she reminded herself, who paid this man's salary. "And I don't suspect you'll hear it any time soon," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She turned and started across the bridge, her earlier fear replaced by indignation. David fell in step beside her. The thick sea air moved across the bridge, through the buildings, carrying with it the scent of fish and an underlying hint of something Kira couldn't name and wasn't sure she wanted to. She paused at the edge of the bridge, letting her eyes adjust to the soft orange glow of the city streets. Then she headed down the first major walkway into the heart of the Docks, trying to ignore the man that had followed her over the bridge. To her irritation, he stayed beside her. "I imagine you have other things to do here," she snapped, stopping to stare up at him. She found it disconcerting that despite her high-heeled boots, he was still several inches taller than her. In heels, she was the same height as Ennoren, and she'd considered him a tall man. Even more disconcerting was the scent of David's cologne, a combination of musk and spice blended with the leather smell of his jacket. It managed to tease her senses without overpowering them. She wanted to lean closer to that faint smell, to fill her lungs with it. "I'll walk you to where you're going," he said, ignoring her dismissal. They stood alone on the main street, washed in orange light. He glanced again at the miniskirt and the long length of thigh it exposed. "I wouldn't be comfortable letting you walk there alone." Kira stared at him, her emotions shifting rapidly through amazement, to anger and finally settling on amusement. She smiled. When his eyes creased suspiciously, she laughed, a sound that boomed in the quiet streets. A man in a dark body suit and flight jacket who'd just stepped out of an alley glanced toward them, then gave them a wide berth. Kira forgot to be afraid or angry. She patted David on the arm and grinned. "Very gallant of you. Not necessary. But a gallant offer nonetheless. Would that I could allow it." He frowned and she hurried on. "The...hard to obtain item I have to get here is sold by a man that wouldn't take kindly to me appearing with a...bodyguard." She said the last with an upward lilt in her voice, half questioning, half teasing him with the title. "Besides, I'm sure you're not here to follow a virtual stranger around. Go about your business, Officer. I'm well able to take care of myself." He didn't quite smile, but his scar jumped under the twitching muscle of his jaw. "Okay. As the lady wishes." He bowed from the waist, which only made her laugh more. She walked away from him, enjoying the tingles he'd started in her body. When she felt his gaze still following her, she added just a bit more swing to her hips. It had been a long time since a man had made her feel this feminine, this sexy. She turned a corner, crossed a canal, and headed down a second narrow street. Her momentary thrill at flirting with a handsome man vanished behind the need to stay alert and ready for anything. She watched the shadows as she walked through the alleys with as much attitude as she could muster. The surrounding buildings were all several stories tall, with a variety of cast-iron or stone balconies and window boxes decorating the stucco facades. In daylight, the colors varied from muted creams, corals and tans, to darker blues, purples, oranges and greens. The canals, kept cleaned by the natural currents of the Dreic, still held a faint fishy smell that permeated every alley and building in the city. The Docks had been fashioned after the Earth city of Venice in Italy. And if the pictures were anything to go on, Kira thought the Docks a close if not exact replica. She crossed a second bridge, the dark waters of the canal reflecting the orange glow of the street lamps, and ducked down a final alley. The club's entrance wasn't easy to find - you had to know the exact door. The owners had designed it that way. She stepped up to the ordinary- looking green wood door, stared at the brass knocker. The cooling autumn breeze that managed to flow down some corridors and streets in the tightly packed city didn't reach into this particular alley. A trickle of sweat inched down Kira's spine. She raised her hand and hoped silently that the information they'd bought had been worth the price. She knocked with bare knuckles against the thick wood, a pattern that was supposed to allow entrance without question. The door opened and she came face to face with a very large, very hairy Binnean doorman. The Binnean were one of the few alien races humans had encountered since embarking on their exploration of the galaxy. The species was known for its strength and violent tendencies. When the Binnean didn't ask her her business but merely stepped aside for her to enter, Kira felt lightheaded with relief. She walked over to the long brass and glass bar which ran the length of the ground floor and took a moment to study the club, adjusting her eyes to the smoky light. Everything was black and gold. The marble floors, the arched ceilings, the second floor galleries, the glossy tabletops, the golden glow of imitation candles, even the majority of the patrons wore some variation of black and gold. No, she decided after a more thorough look. Most of the men wore some combination of black and gold. Most of the women wore bright, flamboyant colors. But there were too few women in the club to notice those flashes of color on first glance. Kira wondered at the small number of women, but was glad that their informant had told her to wear red. A Binnean barman stepped over to her and asked if she wanted a drink. The creature was so wide, he would have made three human men. His thick head and body were covered with neatly combed black hair; the only clothing he wore a pair of loose-fitting gold woven trousers. Two large, emerald green eyes poked out of the brown, smooth skin of his face. His nose was thick and long over a straight, full-lipped mouth. Hearing a polite question from that mouth seemed at odds with the stories Kira had heard of the Binnean. But then, in the Docks, business was business. She ordered a beer and studied the booths at the rear of the club more closely. She'd been given a description, but already she'd seen a number of men who might fit it. For a second, she felt a tinge of panic. What if she couldn't recognize him? What if he didn't show? What if she picked the wrong man? She was considering taking a walk around the upper galleries when one of the men at the rear of the club caught her eye, a slight, roguish smile on his handsome face. The shoulder-length sandy hair and light eyes, the overall build, even the pilot's black jumpsuit all matched the description of her contact. She took one final glance around the ground floor, then picked up her bottle of icy beer and walked slowly toward the man, noting his casual, arrogant slouch in the booth and his obvious attention to her legs. "Raf?" she asked when she stood across the table from him. His grin crooked to one side, and he nodded for her to take a seat. "So you need a pilot and a ship?" His blunt question surprised her. She'd thought there would be more subtlety. At the very least, she'd expected him to make a more lecherous comment to start the conversation. The fact that he didn't made her look at him more closely. One arm was slung across the top of the bench, the other hung loose on the seat beside him, conveniently within reach of a hip- holstered weapon. His cocky grin belied the vigilant darting of his blue eyes. She slid into the booth. He may have looked at ease, but he was ready for anything. For some reason, that helped Kira relax. And after another careful moment's consideration, she decided she like Raf Tygran. She didn't trust him. But she liked him. "How much?"she asked, taking a sip of beer. She didn't flinch when he named his price. She'd expected something higher. "When?" "I can be ready to leave planet within the week. I've a few details to settle first." His lip twitched. "But getting them onto the ship and off planet isn't gonna be easy." Kira nodded. When she didn't answer his unspoken question, he spoke it. "You have a plan, I take it?" "Of course." "What about the detector rings?" "You worry about flying the ship," she said, setting her half-empty bottle down on the table. "I'll worry about the detectors." And before he could ask, she said, "I'll have a clearance code as well by the time we leave." He shrugged and reached out to the nearly full glass of some orange-colored drink that sat on the table in front of him. "Your show, honey. I'm paid for my pilot skills, not my tactical skills." "I hope you have a few tactical skills. Getting where we're going isn't going to be easy, either. And if it's suspected that you've helped us, you won't be able to show your face here again." He raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Do you think I'm able to show my face here comfortably now?" His gaze flicked around the room before settling on her face again. "Why do you think I come here?" Kira glanced at the room again, then leveled a hard look at him. "Why do you come here? To this club, I mean?" "Paid anonymity. You can buy just about anything in the Docks. Anonymity is more expensive than a lot of things, but not so expensive as others." "Why are there so few women here?" she asked, picking up her bottle again and cradling it in her hands without sipping it. "Too early. Crowds build with the night." "Doesn't it lessen your anonymity to be seen with one of the few women in the club?" He grinned, a mixture of smug self assurance and amusement. "I'm too handsome for anyone to question why I'd be with one of the few women here. Especially since you're quite a stunner yourself. Seems like an obvious conclusion to me." For just an instant, she was awed by the sheer arrogance of that statement. Then she laughed and took a drink of her beer. He really should have annoyed her, but the blatant cockiness he wore like a shirt made it impossible for her to take his flirtations seriously. Unlike David's more subtle seductive manner, she thought before she could stop herself. Her stomach did a giddy dance as the memory of his scent and dark eyes invaded her thoughts. She swallowed hard and forced herself to remember that David worked for Ennoren. That fact wasn't going to change, no matter how he made her feel. And within the week, Kira would be leaving Narava forever. Another fact that wasn't going to change. That thought made her drop her gaze and drink deeply from her warming bottle. A slight shiver shook her shoulders despite the relative warmth of the club. "You okay?" Raf's mild concern surprised her yet again. She smiled up at him and nodded, forcing her melancholy away. There wasn't really much here for her to miss. And there was so much to gain. "Sir," a hesitant voice coughed from the end of the booth, startling Kira. She hadn't even heard the Binnean doorman approach the table. "A message was left for you at the door." The guard handed him a flat, palm-sized electronic notepad. Raf frowned, then pressed the play button on the bottom of the screen. His frown deepened as the message scrolled across the mini-screen. Nodding his thanks to the doorman, the pilot waited until they were alone again before speaking. He turned to Kira, all flirtation and cockiness set aside, and said, "I'm afraid I'll have to call the evening short. It seems my business here has come to me." Kira stared through narrowed eyes at him as he rose and gestured for her to proceed him from the curved seat of the booth. "Does this affect our deal?" "No. Where can I get in touch with you?" "Pat'll know how to find me." He nodded, distracted, and put a hand on her lower back as he ushered her toward the door. Kira didn't resist, until she noticed a familiar face at the bar. She stopped, suspicion warring with irritation. "David." "Kira." His gaze flicked to Raf, who was standing just behind her with his hand firmly around her waist. "Who's your friend?" It wasn't a casual question. "A friend," she answered evenly. "Didn't know you frequented this place." She was a little nonplussed to see how well his all-black attire fit in with the surrounding club. His manner had also changed. The formality she'd seen earlier had lapsed into a relaxed but powerful stance that dared others to challenge him. Before he'd seemed so decent, so nice for a Guard. Now he looked dangerous. "I don't." He still hadn't looked away from the pilot standing behind her. The bristling of male challenge was thick in the air between them, and an irritant to Kira's skin. She didn't have time for this show. "Nice to see you again, David." She turned to face Raf, deftly removing his arm from her waist in the process. "I'll wait for you to get in touch." She turned her back on both men and walked to the door. The doorman nodded a polite goodnight to her as she left the club. She returned it but barely, knowing that both men were following her out. In the dark, stuffy alley, she turned in the direction of the Main Canal, a less circuitous route out of the Docks. The two men were at her side within three steps like a couple of watchdogs. "Very inconspicuous," she mumbled under her breath. When a shadow detached itself from a nearby wall and hurried in the opposite direction, Kira decided that maybe conspicuous wasn't always a bad thing. In a low tone she hoped wouldn't carry in the echoing quiet of the streets, she said to Raf, "I thought you had business." He glanced over his shoulder, then looked straight ahead again. "Just keep heading toward the Grand Bridge." David didn't look behind them, but she felt him tense. "Are you armed?" he asked the pilot. "Yes. You?" "Yes." "Kira?" Raf whispered. "Small blaster, but only strong enough to stun." She ignored the sideways, appraising glance David shot her. They were walking at a steady, unhurried pace, the Main Canal within sight through the final narrow walkway. From the Canal, they had only to walk to their left for another two hundred meters to reach the bridge out of the Docks. Every nerve ending screamed at Kira to run and run fast, but she had gotten used to this tension, this uncertainty over the last five years. She knew how to control her anxiety. She also knew, without looking over her shoulder, that they were being followed none too discretely. The streets ahead of them were cleared or clearing quickly - in anticipation. "How'd you get here?" Raf ask her, glancing over his shoulder again. When he looked forward, he placed one hand on her elbow. The moved put his hand that much closer to his weapon. "Public transport rail." From the corner of her eye, she saw Raf grin. "Didn't trust bringing your own transport close to the Docks?" "No." She couldn't help her slight smile. "I've got a car not too far from the Bridge," David murmured. Raf nodded and steered Kira out onto the walkway that bordered the Main Canal. Boats sat moored to thick wooden pilings along the edge of the Canal; a few small gondolas drifted soundlessly by on the black water. The fresher air along the Canal was thick with the scent of sea, kelp and fish. Lamplight colored the walk a hazy orange-pink that might have been romantic if not for the utter silence filling the light and shadows. The only sounds Kira heard were those of her boot heels clicking along the flagstones, and the pounding of blood in her ears. They were within sight of the Grand Bridge, only a short sprint to its edge, when a rough growl rose behind them. "You may as well stop now, Raf." Raf stopped, but nodded for Kira and David to continue. She wanted to protest, but David took her other elbow and began walking her to the Bridge. "Nope," the growling voice behind them said. "The others stop, too." "This is between you and me, Gavuq," Raf said, his voice low. Kira and David stopped and turned slowly around. The owner of the growling voice was impossibly thin and tall. He stood well over seven feet, but he looked to be made of no more than bone. He wore a dark cloak over a billowing maroon robe of embroidered silk. His face was as pale as Narava's two moons. His eyes glowed fluorescent yellow in the dim light. The hood of the cloak covered the top of his head, but Kira knew that beneath it he was bald. "I told you once before, Gavuq," Raf said in an even, confident voice, "I don't traffic your kind. There was no deal broken. You got your money back. So it's time you take your dogs off my tail." "You deceived us," Gavuq hissed. "Listen, you son of a bitch, I was the one misled. You knew from the start I wouldn't deal with your kind. Not after what happened on theVenture ." "And yet you returned to the Docks to seek me out," Gavuq said, with a mocking bow of his skeletal head. He spread his arms, palms upraised. "To tell you to back the fuck off," Raf almost shouted. "I won't carry Leeches on my ship, no matter the money and no matter the threat. Find someone else, Gavuq. But don't fuck with me anymore." Kira felt the shifting of cool autumn air before she saw shadows roll up from the steps leading down to the water of the Canal. There were at least ten of them, all tall and skeletal. And deadly. She flexed her right hand and a small stunner dropped into her palm from the holster strapped to her forearm. It wouldn't kill the Leeches, it might not even stun them for long, but it would sure as hell slow them down. Raf already had his weapon in hand and was backing toward David and Kira. The three moved back to back, watching the Leeches surround them. ABOUT THE AUTHOR ================ Norma Cecilia McPhee, named after her two grandfathers, bawled her way into the world in Canso, Nova Scotia, on a bright July morning just before lunch. Shortly thereafter her family moved to Cape Breton Island, where she grew up alternating between the city of Sydney and a cottage in a place called Beaver Cove. Norma lived with a steady stream of dogs, cats, fish, worms and other pets, some much longer lived than others. She spent her girlhood camping, fishing, road-tripping and hiking, and learned to swim, boat, dream and anything else that offered a challenge. She grew up surrounded by books of every conceivable type, in a close-knit family known for its collectively weird sense of humor. Norma attended Holy Angels High School, an all-girl institution, where she left a trail of nuns and other teachers wondering what happened. From there it was off to Nova Scotia Teacher's college, where she managed to steal a certificate in Early Childhood Education. But her real education came from reading everything she could get her hands on, regardless of subject. Norma works as a nanny to support her writing habit. She lives in Toronto, Ontario, with two beautiful, brilliant and creative little girls (if she does say so herself) and their parents. This bio was partially written by Norma's father. It has been edited to remove any bald- faced lies. Publisher info: Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears, Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks About this Title ================ This eBook was created using ReaderWorks®Publisher 2.0, produced by OverDrive, Inc. For more information about ReaderWorks, please visit us on the Web atwww.overdrive.com/readerworks