B00CH3ARG0 EBOK Page 12

  “No, seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “Is something wrong?” Marianne asked.

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Did what hurt?”

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

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

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

  “Sounds wonderful.”

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

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

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

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

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

  “Opposites attract.”

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

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

  “What do you think he saw in you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Laura coughed and turned red. The old man broke into a smile. “Such a charming ability you humans have, to blush. But you are thoroughly embarrassed.” He turned a questioning look on Marianne. “High one?”

  Marianne spread her hands. “It’s just not talked about in high society,” she replied, biting her lip and trying not to laugh.

  “Many humans of high status do not discuss their reproductive decisions and behavior openly,” Cena said.

  Marianne patted Laura’s back through a fit of coughing. “Still convinced you want to live with these people?” she asked, and burst into helpless laughter.

  Laura shrugged and started to giggle. Before long, she was laughing merrily with them.

  The Sural popped into view on the gazebo steps. “It is good to see my friends enjoying themselves.” He took a seat next to Marianne. Laura sobered.

  “Your apothecary is most persistent, high one,” Storaas said in a dry voice.

  “I asked Storaas to father my heir,” Cena said. “He has been delaying his answer for most of a season.”

&nb
sp; The Sural shot an appraising glance at Laura’s reddened face and turned to Storaas. “How is the genetic analysis?” he asked.

  “Exceptional,” Storaas replied. “And the child would inherit my gift.”

  “Excellent!” the Sural exclaimed. “You must give serious consideration to such a rare finding.”

  Laura burst. “How can you people sit here casually talking about a man his age and a young woman her age having ... being ... together?”

  “Cena is older than you are,” Marianne said, her mouth twitching on its own.

  Laura peered at the apothecary. “You can’t be more than half my age,” she said.

  Cena smiled. “You are perhaps a quarter of mine.”

  “No!”

  “Tolari live about 300 years,” Marianne said. “And that’s if they don’t take the blessing. If they do, they live until they let themselves grow old and die.”

  Laura turned to Storaas and blurted, “Is that what you’re doing?”

  He studied her. “You are very astute,” he said.

  “That’s what my husband always used to say.”

  “Your husband knew you well.”

  Laura swallowed. Storaas’s expression turned sympathetic, and she did a double-take. She held his gaze for a long moment, before she looked away and took a deep breath.

  It was time to lighten the mood. “So,” Marianne said, “are you going to honor the good apothecary, Proctor?” She felt the Sural suppressing sudden amusement. She glanced at him. There was some deeper meaning to this.

  Storaas gazed out at the garden and didn’t answer for a long time. “I believe so, yes,” he said when he spoke again.

  Cena broke into a radiant smile.

  “Excellent,” the Sural said with a huge grin.

  Storaas and Cena stood. “If you will allow us,” the apothecary said. Together they headed back to the keep.

  Laura gaped. “They’re going – they’re going off to—”

  “Yes,” the Sural answered. “It is the usual way to create a child.”

  She blushed to the roots of her hair. “Oh my,” she said. “You really are aliens, I guess.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Look into your own history and you will find many instances of similar behavior. We are not so very unusual.”

  “I think I need time to get used to you people.”

  “You have time.”

  “But if I take the Jorann’s blessing ... it would mean I could never leave.”

  “Quite possibly. There is some hope if your government changes its ways.”

  Laura was quiet. Then her eyes filled.

  “I’ll never see my family again anyway,” she said. Tears spilled down her face. “The government will have them under surveillance. And if Central Command finds me, they’ll kill me.”

  The Sural leaned forward toward her. “That is probable, at least in the near future,” he said gently, taking her hands in his.

  “Tell me you would never use one of your people to get something the way Central Command tried to use me to get to Marianne,” she said, searching his face.

  “I would never use one of my people in that fashion.”

  She pulled her hands from his. “I think you’re telling the truth,” she said. “Or at least, you think you are. Thank you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re like a cat with canary breath,” Laura said to Cena the next morning.

  The apothecary handed Marianne her medical tablet and turned to Laura with a blank look.

  “She means, you look like you got what you wanted last night,” Marianne explained, not looking away from her daughter’s image on the tablet. She lounged on the examination bed, touching her daughter’s image on the tablet with a fingertip, a tiny smile playing around her mouth.

  “Marianne!” Laura exclaimed.

  Marianne gave her an unrepentant look.

  Cena smiled. “Yes,” she said. “It was very enjoyable. The good proctor is quite skilled and very considerate.”

  Laura sputtered and felt herself turn pink. “How can you be so open about it?”

  Cena shrugged a shoulder. “It is our way,” she said. “Truthfully, I would have him grant the Sural’s request that he take the Jorann’s blessing. I would like to spend more time with him.”

  Marianne put down the tablet. “Cena!” she blurted. “You’ve fallen in love!”

  Cena smiled. “Perhaps.”

  “He’ll be able to tell, you know.”

  “He could not fail to notice. It is not possible to conceal such feelings during coupling.”

  “Well, perhaps the love of a good woman will persuade him to stay with us,” Marianne said. “I wish you joy of him.”

  Laura looked from one to the other of them. “I’m never going to understand you people. Not if I live a hundred years.”

  “You’ll live a lot longer than that, if you become Tolari,” Marianne said.

  “Well— I can’t win, can I?”

  “No, you can’t.” Marianne’s face sprouted a mischievous grin. “And you don’t even know the half of it.”

  “The Sural fathered me,” Cena said.

  “I wasn’t going to say that,” Marianne muttered under her breath.

  Laura sat down hard in a chair, flummoxed at this unexpected bit of information. “The Sural – is your father?”

  “No, he fathered me.”

  Laura frowned. “What’s the difference?” she asked.

  Marianne tried to explain it. Parents, children, families in straight lines … Laura rubbed her face. “So – your baby is your heir?” she said, motioning toward Marianne’s swollen abdomen.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “But she’s not the Sural’s daughter.”

  “Kyza is the Sural’s daughter,” Cena said. “He can have only one heir. Thela is his bond-daughter, but she remains her father’s heir. The Marann’s daughter is neither his heir nor his bond-child.”

  “And the Sural fathered your baby, but he’s not the baby’s father,” Laura said, doubt creeping in that she had it correct.

  “Right,” said Marianne.

  “This is so strange,” Laura said, dropping her head in her hands and squeezing her eyes shut. Then she looked up. “Wait, what did you call Marianne?”

  Marianne grinned. “She called me the Marann. It means ‘second one’ in Old Tolari. Some of the servants started calling me that after I came back from seeing the Jorann, because it’s close to the way my name sounds to them, and it spread. Even the Sural calls me that now.” Her smile pulled to one side. “He almost never calls me by my own name anymore. I wish he would. I like the way my name sounds when he says it.”

  “Well, ask him to.”

  “I have. He forgets. It’s not very characteristic of him to forget anything, but I guess he’s so used to the idea that if you have a title, you don’t have a name, it gets past his normal watchfulness.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Marianne shrugged. “I don’t mind so much.” Suddenly she grinned. “The baby’s kicking.”

  Laura wandered over to put a hand on her belly. She felt a little sorry for Marianne that she could only have one baby here. Unless she got pregnant again? “What would happen if you had another baby?”

  “If it were someone else’s heir, that would be fine.”

  “You could have someone else’s baby? Wouldn’t the Sural be upset if you – you know.”

  Marianne shook her head and grimaced. “No, he’d probably think it was an honor,” she said, her voice as sour as her face. “But I probably wouldn’t. I have too many human scruples about it, as well as some other problems. And I’m reliably informed that engaging in – that activity – without the bond is empty.”

  “Only relatively,” Cena replied.

  Marianne grinned again. “Is that a canary feather?”

  Cena flashed an enigmatic smile. Laura gasped. “That’s the Sural’s smile!” she exclaimed. Cena gave a slight bow.


  “You may get dressed now, high one,” Cena said.

  “Want to come with us to the garden?”

  “Regrettably, I have too much work today, high one. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Storaas stood by the windows in the Sural’s open study, gazing out over the city.

  “You look younger this morning, Proctor,” the Sural said, from where he sat on the edge of his desk.

  “Your apothecary is insatiable,” he replied, cloaking himself in serenity. “She appears to have inherited at least one of your appetites.”

  “As well for you then,” the Sural replied, his lips twitching.

  “Not at my age. She could kill an old man. She would not allow me to sleep until I gave her my word I would return tonight.”

  The Sural chuckled. “You are thinking about her.”

  “Yes, high one,” he admitted. He half-turned and looked at the Sural.

  “My heart is gladdened for you, old friend,” the Sural said, allowing the warmth in his voice to reflect on his face.

  “She wishes to spend more time with me.”

  His breath caught. He went over to the window to stand beside the old man and looked out at his city. “And will you give her that time?” he asked, his voice very soft.

  Storaas stood silent for a long time. Finally, he whispered, almost inaudibly, “Perhaps.”

  * * *

  Laura and Marianne strolled through the gardens after leaving Cena’s quarters.

  “Marianne—” Laura said.

  “Hmm?” Marianne tossed a flower in one of the garden’s brooks and watched it float downstream.

  “You said you had too many scruples to have another man’s baby,” she said, sitting down in the ferny vegetation beside the brook. Marianne joined her.

  “They won’t even ask. Apparently it’s rude to ask a member of the ruling caste to mother your heir, though it’s allowed to ask a man to father one. But Cena told me I won’t ever want anyone else that way, because of the bond I have with the Sural.”

  “What about the other problems?”

  “What other problems?”

  “You said you had too many scruples, ‘as well as some other problems.’”

  Marianne was silent. She plucked a fern and tossed it into the brook.