Page 14

Jos walked through the streets of Hrelum, shivering despite his armor’s valiant attempts to keep him warm. The sprawling town looked like a holo of a time long past. Wooden buildings lined the wide streets, framed by rugged mountains in the near distance. Animal drawn wagons ambled along the causeways, sharing them with pedestrians and hovercars alike. Smoke drifted from chimneys, curling along the buildings’ roofs under thick, low-hanging clouds. The sun’s heat failed to penetrate the cloud cover, casting a dreary midday pall over the town.

“Snow later,” Tyelu had told him casually as they left his grandmother’s ship. “A good early autumn snow.”

He clamped his teeth together and relaxed, hoping to ease the shivering, or at least keep his dignity intact. Bad enough that she was leading him through the streets in chains. He refused to surrender his pride because of his temporary servitude.

While he’d worn armor for this little ignominious jaunt, Tyelu had dressed in only three layers: a thin set of body-covering underclothes, her outer street clothes, and a knee-length jacket lined with fur. A wide, handknit scarf had gone over that, wrapped around her head and shoulders until only the brilliant blue of her eyes showed.

She’d left her hands bare to the elements. Her skin reddened under the persistent brush of the icy wind sweeping through the town. How she stood it, he didn’t know. He trained bare skinned in space-cold conditions and could tolerate Hrelum’s chill only by drawing on the wells of discipline beaten into him by decades of rigid training.

The walk was thankfully brief, ending not in a private home, but at a public building in the center of town. Several people stood on the steps, talking quietly among themselves. Jos recognized Sigun, the Pruxn? tyrl, and guessed at least two of the others were Tyelu’s parents. As he and Tyelu approached, more people crowded onto the stairs, swelling to a number representing at least half the town’s adult population.

His grandmother had opted to follow them on foot along with her guard, only adding to the spectacle. Jos wished she’d gone ahead of them so she, at least, wouldn’t have to subject her old bones to the biting cold.

Now, she skirted them briskly and glided up the stairs toward Sigun with the grace of an accomplished warrior. Sigun greeted her tersely, then dropped a chastising glare on Tyelu before leading Zhina inside.

Tyelu maintained an even stride until they entered the building’s welcoming warmth. Sigun, Zhina, and several others had clustered around the beautifully crafted chairs set on a slightly raised dais at the far end of the main room. Otherwise, the room was empty of furniture, though lit by a cheerful light cast by lamps placed along the wooden walls.

Tyelu paused near the chairs as the crowd filed in around them, keeping a respectful distance. Jos stopped a few paces behind her, close enough to participate, if needed, far enough away for the chains stretching between them to be visible.

Give them a show , he thought wryly, then could’ve kicked himself for testing the fates.

“Father,” Tyelu began, nodding respectfully to a bearded gentleman standing to Sigun’s left. Gared, Jos presumed, the kafh of this province. “Mother,” she added with a nod to the woman standing to her father’s left, a woman who could’ve been Tyelu’s twin if not for the subtle gray streaking her blonde hair. “I present to you Jos Q’Mhel, my candidate for the next Choosing.”

Tyelu’s cousin Kodh stood to one side, his mouth curled in an arrogant sneer. Jos recognized a few others as part of the tyrl’s honor guard.

And noticed that Tyelu didn’t bother including her cousin in her introductions.

“Welcome, Jos Q’Mhel,” Gared said, his eyes twinkling despite the solemn expression he wore. “My beautiful bride Alna, Tyelu’s mother.”

Alna stared at him with the same haughty expression Tyelu turned on him all too often. Now he knew where she got it from.

“Have you the right to present this man as a candidate?” Sigun said, his voice rolling across the long, narrow room. “He is not a member of this Choosing’s chosen planets.”

“No, my tyrl.”

“You contravene our laws?”

“No, my tyrl.” To Jos’s shock, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “I beg leave to explain.”

Sigun gazed at her for long moments as those present whispered among themselves. When the murmurs grew too loud, he said, “Very well. Explain.”

“During a recent diplomatic discourse, Jos Q’Mhel and his dal were contracted as security for Luden Moko. Ambassador Moko represents his home world Tersi, the primary subject of this season’s Choosing. As the contracted employee of such a representative, Jos Q’Mhel and his dal became subject to the laws governing sesquicentennial marital raidings as if they were citizens of the target planet.” She quoted three relevant cases which previously had been judged sound, including one weighed by Tyrl Sigun himself. “Thus do I present him as a lawful candidate for the Choosing based upon our own laws and traditions, both in spirit and rule.”

Sigun stroked his beard, then bent toward Gared and sought the other man’s counsel. They exchanged a terse spate of words, tempting Jos to tap into his armor’s audio system. He’d dearly love to know what they were saying.

Before temptation got the better of him, Sigun turned to Jos. “What say you, Q’Mhel? Do you recognize the justness of Pruxn? law?”

Tyelu’s hand tightened on the chains until her knuckles turned white.

She’s scared , he thought, surprised. Why? Does she really think I’ll repudiate her now, after everything we’ve been through? Doesn’t she trust that I’ll support her in this?

“I do, Tyrl Sigun,” he said.

His grandmother straightened at Sigun’s right. “I do not,” she said flatly. “This woman stole my grandson, a valued member of our military, from his duty. She drugged him, kidnapped him, and held him chained to her bed.”

Sigun glanced at her, the barest trace of amusement lighting his eyes. “As every good Pruxn? does, Taq.”

Muted chuckles sounded around the room, attesting to Pruxn? traditions.

“He is not Pruxn?,” she snapped. “He is third in line to the taq.”

Jos bit back a curse. She’d had to bring that up. “Taking a Pruxn? bride does not negate my right of inheritance, Grandmother.”

“It does, however, make for a good alliance,” Sigun said, his voice deceptively mild.

“His first duty lies to his people,” Taq Zhina insisted. “Allow him to finish out his contract, then if this woman still longs to marry him, she can present him as a candidate at another Choosing.”

“Respectfully,” Tyelu said quietly. “The next Choosing is a full year away and covers no territories to which Jos is attached. I would have no rights to him then and, under our laws, no authority to court or claim him. Either I present him for this Choosing, or I must give him up forever.”

“Not forever. He could very well come back to claim you.” Zhina sniffed as if she doubted such a thing could occur. “If he wishes.”

Sigun waved that off with a slash of his fist. “He’s here now. The Choosing begins in three days. As I understand it, he’s taken a long overdue leave to allow Tyelu’s suit to proceed.”

“I have, Tyrl Sigun,” Jos agreed.

“The Sweeper threat—” Zhina began.

“Will be dealt with by us all,” Sigun reminded her. “I accept your reasoning, Tyelu af Alna. Now unchain the Q’Mhel before you start a war.”

Another round of laughter filled the room, this one easier.

Tyelu stood and obediently unlocked the manacles binding Jos’s wrists, her gaze lowered. When his hands were free, he retracted his helmet and turned her face to his.

“You did well,” he said.

She shrugged off his praise. The skin around her eyes had tightened, giving her a haunted look. “My parents will likely expect you to stay with them.”

“And where will you be?”

“At my home, outside town.”

“You’ll take me there?”

“If we have time.” She inhaled a shuddering breath and swayed into him. “I would very much like it if you’d accept it as your home, too.”

Alna swept toward them before he could respond, and Tyelu turned away, her shoulders unusually stiff beneath her jacket.

They gave Jos no time to comfort or confront her. Gared bade his leave from Sigun, who’d fallen into deep conversation with Zhina, then swooped down on the trio and ushered them outside again. Jos walked beside Tyelu this time, trailing her parents along winding streets until they reached a comfortable home tucked away in a quieter section of town.

Their bags had been carried ahead, Jos’s here, Tyelu’s to her home. Tyelu showed him around the lower level with its spacious kitchen and comfortable living and work areas, then led him upstairs to the room her parents had set aside for his use. While he peeled out of his armor and stored it, she knelt before a metal box resting on a thin layer of stone and started a fire.

“Sorry about the chill,” she said. “Mother told me she thought you might prefer to stay with me.”

“The place outside town?”

“Yes.”

“What would normally happen?”

“You would stay here, with my family, until the Choosing.” Her mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Propriety.”

He shucked his boots and set them aside, then dropped onto the edge of the room’s sole bed wearing only his skinsuit. “You’ve been quiet.”

She scoffed at that. “I’ve done nothing but talk since we arrived.”

“Not to me.”

“Do you need me to talk?”

“I need to know what you’re thinking.”

She turned where she knelt and arched a perfectly formed eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that usually what women want from men?”

“It goes both ways,” he said easily, despite the restlessness growing within him. The meeting with Sigun and Zhina had gone their way. They could move forward now with the Choosing. She should be happy about that.

Fire caught inside the stove. Tyelu tended it carefully, feeding it until it blazed. Finally, she eased the door closed and stood, brushing her palms together. “Father wants to speak with you. If we’ve enough daylight, we can drive to my home after.”

“And tonight?”

She wrinkled her nose into an adorable grimace. “Tonight, you’ll meet some of the single and widowed women who’re looking for a husband.”

“So I have a choice, then.”

“Not if you value your hide.”

She said it dryly enough to spark a grin from him.

“It’s tradition,” she explained, and relented enough to join him on the bed. “If you’d rather have another—”

He pounced, pushing her back on the bed and rolling on top of her before she could shove him away. “You know better than that.”

“Do I?”

“What do I have to do to prove it?”

The humor bled out of her expression, and she regarded him tenderly, sadly. “You can’t prove love. You can’t earn it. It just is.”

His heart thudded hard, unaccountably. “Do you love me?”

“Jos,” she murmured. “You know you have my heart, enough of it for me to risk everything by claiming you in such an unusual manner.”

No, he hadn’t, not really. But to hear her say it, to know some measure of what she felt, filled him with a raw brand of affection he’d rarely known.

His body reacted, hardening against his will. Not the time, he wanted to tell it.

Especially when a throat cleared behind him.

He glanced around. Tyelu’s mother stood in the open doorway, her expression stony. Jos nearly winced. Caught red handed trying to seduce her daughter. That should make for an interesting dinner.

“Gared wants to speak with you, Q’Mhel,” Alna said. “Tyelu, you’re needed elsewhere.”

Jos slid away from Tyelu and helped her off the bed, keeping his own expression tightly controlled. “I’ll be down in a few.”

“See that you are.”

Alna left as Tyelu flashed a wry grin at him.

“Don’t worry, spacer,” she said. “I’ll sneak in tonight.”

“Great,” he muttered. “That’s not going to help me get this raging hard-on under control.”

She winked saucily and sashayed out, and he dropped back on the bed and stared at the wooden beams bracing the ceiling, willing his body back under control.

When that didn’t work, he stripped to his waist, threw the window open, and leaned into the bitter cold. Puffy snowflakes drifted lazily from the leaden sky. Snow had already covered the ground in a layer of white, softening the edges of buildings and trees. The wind had died down, at least, and the snow deadened the noise drifting from the nearby streets.

His nose grew cold and every breath created a cloud of fog. It was peaceful here. Quiet. On the ship, something was always going on. People running through the corridors, instruments alerting in loud beeps, communications splitting the air, creating a steady cacophony that had, over time, become easy to ignore.

Battle was worse. The pzzt-pzzt of blasters, the screams of the wounded and dying, the thud of ships ramming together; or on land, the rat-a-tat-tat of hard ammo popping out of a machine gun, the ear-ringing flood of explosions, the constant stream of commands relayed into his ear by his superiors.

And always, always , the knowledge that this moment might be his last.

His heart constricted in his chest, not for himself, but for Tyelu. Having found her, he was loath to let her go, even to duty and the rapacious thirst of the Reaper’s scythe against his throat. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to deal with his death, to mourn his life, to grieve for the time lost to them.

How could he put her through knowing that with every mission, he might not come back?

But she’d known what he was when they met, just as he’d known what she was. Being a warrior herself, a fighter in spirit and training, wouldn’t she understand the risks?

She stepped out of the house’s entrance into the snow, bundled in layers of clothing, a folded leather carryall in her hands. His skin had grown numb, his limbs stiff, yet he couldn’t quite dampen the languid heat stirring his blood.

A man could spend his entire life loving a woman like her.

She glanced up and caught him leaning out the window, shook her head and pulled her scarf below her mouth. “Get back inside before you catch cold.”

“I already have,” he said, grinning madly. “Come catch it with me.”

She laughed and pulled her scarf up, and disappeared around the corner, heading toward the center of town.

A shiver wracked his body, and he decided, just this once, to take her advice.

A few minutes later, Jos jogged down the stairs, now dressed comfortably in Pruxn? style, in clothes Tyelu had left out for him. Alna sat at a spinning wheel near the giant stone hearth, twisting wool roving into yarn. She glanced up when he reached the bottom landing and jerked her chin at a stoneware mug set on a low table.

“Drink,” she commanded.

Being no fool, he took the mug. The stoneware was warm against his snow-chilled palms and held a dark, fragrant liquid. He took a cautious sip and savored the taste of rich chocolate, spice, and spirits on his tongue.

He sipped again, more deeply this time, then raised his mug to her. “Thank you. It’s delicious.”

She snorted indelicately, never pausing in their work. “Thin blooded spacer like you needs a good hefty drink. You’re naught but skin and bones.”

If she’d meant to insult him, it didn’t work. He hid his amusement behind another sip. “Gared was looking for me?”

“Aye. He’s in the back yard, waiting for you to quit making moon eyes at my daughter.”

“Moons and stars,” he affirmed mildly.

She shot him a sharp look, her eyes like shards of blue ice. “Is that so.”

“Only when she can’t see me.”

That drew a laugh from her. “Go on, then. Gared’s looking for you. He’s out back, through there.”

She jerked her chin toward the doorway opposite the entrance, then turned back to her work.

Dismissed like a raw cadet. Even on leave, he couldn’t escape the command structure.

The doorway led to a homey kitchen. A wooden trough as long as his arm sat atop an island workspace near the cookstove, covered in a homespun dishtowel. Curious, he lifted one corner of the towel and peered at a smooth lump of dough.

“Don’t touch the bread,” Alna called.

He chuckled softly to himself, left his mug beside the bread bowl, and stepped outside into a fenced in yard. The roofs and upper stories of neighboring houses rose above the fence’s wooden spikes, and beyond that, white fields stretched to the craggy mountains in the distance.

Gared was on the left side of the yard next to a shed filled with neatly chopped wood. He wore only the loose shirt and trousers common to the locals, the former rolled up to his elbows, the latter tucked into sturdy boots. Strands of gray shot through his hair and beard, and the muscles of his forearms flexed with every swing of his axe.

Jos skirted the yard, well out of reach of that sharp-edged axe, and came at the other man from an angle Gared could easily see. The snow lay thickly on the ground now, though it fell more lightly, joining the remnants of previous snowfalls packed into the shadows. Wind cut across the yard, chilling Jos to the bone, and he wished ruefully for thicker blood or a wind-proof coat.

“Almost there,” Gared said, grunting as the axe neatly split a log in two. “Wanted a word with you.”

Jos hummed a response, then bent and started throwing the split wood onto the pile under the shed. The movement warmed his muscles, easing the chill gripping him. “Does it usually snow this late here?”

“Late? Boy, we have snow here all year ‘round.”

“No crops?”

“Not this far north. Down near the equator, where that wretch Sigun lives, that’s where you’ll find the crops.” The axe rose and fell on another grunt, and split wood fell away from the stand. “Don’t know how he stands the heat myself.”

Jos bit back a laugh. “Alna was spinning yarn?”

“Molnog. Their wool’s prized for its warmth. You’re wearing some of it now.”

“Tyelu gave it to me.”

“Did she, now.” Gared paused long enough to eye Jos’s outfit. “Looks like something she wove herself.”

Tyelu, a weaver? Now, that was a shock, both good and bad. She was skilled, clearly; his clothes were sturdy and well-made, comfortable and warm when the wind stilled. But it made him realize how little he knew about her, outside of her character and skills as a warrior. Former warrior, he corrected, not that she’d allowed herself to grow rusty. Far from it. He’d stand by her in a fight any day, though he hoped he never had to again.

She could handle herself. That wasn’t the problem. He just refused to risk her in battle, if it could be avoided.

But there was time, he thought as he finished stowing the pile of wood Gared had split. Time for them to know each other. Time for him to learn these sweet little secrets she hadn’t yet shared. At least three more days until his leave ended, maybe four.

He sucked in a lungful of cold air as the smallness of their stay here hit him. Frek, it wasn’t enough time. He wanted all of it, every last morsel, every breath, every everything .

“You’ve the look of a man well-besotted,” Gared said, his eyes crinkled into a smile. “I hope that’s my daughter you’re thinking on.”

“Who else?” Jos said. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“It’s customary for a family to train a candidate for the Choosing, but I figured a Q’Mhel could handle himself.”

“Depends on the rules.”

“You won’t be able to take your armor in, not even that fancy onesie you wear underneath it.”

Q’s R&D would be appalled to hear Jos’s cutting-edge skinsuit called a onesie . “I expected that.”

Gared thwacked the axe’s blade into the stand one-handed and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “You know you’ll be fighting her family?”

Jos mirrored the other man’s wide-legged stance. “Do you plan on keeping me from her?”

“Me?” Gared’s eyebrows rose perilously high on his forehead. “No, not me. Not her mother. Ziri’s gone soft on you, and she’ll temper Ryn’s judgment, though he owes Tyelu for threatening to stand in Ziri’s way at their Choosing.”

Jos kept his expression even. So. Another thing he didn’t know about his bride to be. “Who should I worry about, then?”

“Not many of the men around here would dare challenge you for Tyelu. She’s a hellcat at times.”

“Feisty,” Jos agreed mildly. He happened to like that about her. Mostly.

“Aye, she is that. The one person who might stand against you is her cousin Kodh. My nephew.”

“I’ve met him.”

“Then you know they’re rivals of a sort.”

“I know she doesn’t particularly care for him,” Jos said carefully, feeling Gared out.

“It goes deeper than that. Not from childhood, no. They were friendly enough then. But in the last few years when I started hinting about leaving the responsibilities of kafh to my heir…”

“Kodh wants the kafh?”

Gared glanced away, gazing at the sky, his forehead wrinkling as snow clung to his hair and shoulders. “He believes he should have it as the only child of my elder brother.”

“And what do you think?”

“Being a kafh requires a delicate touch. It takes a deep-seated sense of mercy and compassion, but also the strength to pass a harsh judgment when necessary.”

The chill running down Jos’s spine had nothing to do with the cold. “Tyelu has plenty of strength.”

“But does she have compassion?” A hint of sadness flickered across the older man’s expression.

“I think she might surprise you there.” Jos threw the last bits of cut wood onto the pile, suppressing a shiver. Griyet weather. “Anything else I should know?”

“Well,” Gared said, stroking his beard. A hint of mischief lit the man’s eyes. “There’s the bride price.”

“The bride price,” Jos repeated slowly.

“A dowry of sorts, usually paid by the claimant to the candidate.”

“She’s going to pay me for kidnapping me?”

“It’s usually the men doing the kidnapping and the men doing the paying, and the men turning over their assets for the woman to manage.”

Jos stared at him, momentarily nonplused. “A good chunk of my assets are entailed.”

“Wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. The two of you can work that out, in your own way. Tyelu’s got a bit of a reputation for shopping, but she’s a keen eye on making a profit, too.” Gared brushed ice off his eyelashes with the heel of his palm. “Best get inside. If you catch cold, the women’ll never forgive me.”

“I’m not likely to catch cold, old man,” Jos muttered.

Gared clapped Jos on the back, sending him stumbling against the wood pile. “That’s the spirit, lad. Don’t worry. My wife’ll see to feeding you up. Makes a mean bovi stew, she does. Taught her how myself.”

Jos followed him inside, shaking the snow off as he went, his mind chewing on his conversation with Tyelu’s father and what the other man hadn’t said.