Future Dreams (19 page)

Jame finally broke from the stunned Tigh and stood up and held out her hand.

Tigh took the hand and scooped a startled Jame into her arms, and stumbled to the bed on weakened knees.

Much to Jame’s wondrous delight, the smiles and tender touches lasted long into the night.

INGEL COULD ONLY imagine how nervous Jame was at the thought of facing the Council of Glaus and convincing them that Tigh the Terrible was not a threat. She knew the Military Tribunal of Ynit wanted Tigh free from their responsibility—although they were cautious about it, not wanting their decision to come back and haunt them. But the situation at Glaus was quite different. Glaus had no reason to want Tigh in their city and had every reason to have her removed.

Ingel rapped on the door of the Sword and Bow and realized this would be her first glimpse into the world Jame grew up in. A tall woman opened the door and beckoned her inside.

“My name is Ingel. I’m an arbiter from Ynit. I’m here to see Jamelin Ketlas,” Ingel said, as the Emoran looked her over.

“I’m Balwen, proprietor. This way.” She led Ingel into the common room where guests lingered over their morning meals. “They’re over there.” She nodded to the back of the chamber where Jame and Tigh consumed their meal.

Ingel noted the warrior theme of the decor from the painted depictions of famous battles and heroes to the artful display of weapons hanging on the walls. As she approached Jame and Tigh, she was surprised that they seemed to be in amazingly good spirits.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Ingel. Good morning, have a seat,” Jame said.

She raised an eyebrow at Jame’s good mood and sat in the offered chair. “I just stopped by in case you had any questions or concerns about the hearing.”

“I do have one question,” Jame said. “Will it be only before the city council or will there be a crowd of people there?”

“Unfortunately, being a public hearing, the Council can’t keep the people out,” Ingel said. “But they promised they won’t let any more in after all the seats are filled.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Jame said.

“This isn’t going to be like arguing in front of the Military Tribunal with only friends and family and members of the compound community in the audience.” Ingel looked at Tigh, who was munching a mouthful of greens. “As dramatic as it was, I’m not quite sure the Ketlas interpretation of Bailikon’s procedure will work in this situation.”

Jame glanced at the discreetly listening Emorans at the tables around them. “I don’t think I’ll need Bailikon’s procedure or anything else so dramatic.”

Ingel eyed Jame with curiosity. “I hope you’re right. The hearing will be right after the midday meal. That means you’ll have to stay in here for one more morning.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Jame said. “I’m enjoying the company.”

Ingel looked from Jame to Tigh, noting the light blush coloring both their cheeks. The rumors were rampant about them, but she honored their privacy and refrained from asking.

She caught the faces at a nearby table and was shocked to see the women glaring at Tigh. She remembered the incident at the safe house in Ynit and realized the Emorans were less than happy with how close Tigh was to Jame. Much like the Ingorans’ unhappiness with Jame representing Tigh.

“How do you feel about the argument Jame has prepared?” Ingel asked Tigh.

“It’s the best argument for this circumstance,” Tigh said. “Whether she succeeds or not, she’ll have given it her best shot and that’s good enough for me.”

Ingel flashed a glance at the nearby table and noted that the glares turned to puzzled frowns. “That’s all any of us can ask for.” No matter the outcome, she had learned that Jame would make the hearing worth talking about for a long time.

SARK STRODE THROUGH the scouts’ camp in the meadows above the city of Emor. She always spent the sandmark after the midday meal away from the more sedentary duties as Jyac’s Right Hand. Staying in mental touch with her former occupation as a scout helped her to keep her perspective on the governing of her country.

The young scouts in training were practicing their stealth skills by navigating a course filled with metal odds and ends that clanked with every wrong move. Sark smiled in remembrance of the many long moons she practiced on that course until she could walk through it as soundless as a cat.

Above the clattering and crashing from the course, Sark heard rapid footfalls behind her. She turned and was surprised to see Eiget running toward her.

“Sorry to interrupt your walk, Sark.” The palace guard slid to a stop on the slick grass. “The queen would like to see you.”

“Thank you, Eiget.” Sark fell in step next to the guard. “Any idea what this is about?”

“A message came from the princess. Jyac wasn’t very pleased with it.” Eiget was famous for her droll understatements.

The walk to the palace was too short for Sark and she could feel Jyac’s displeasure the moment she walked into the chamber.

“This came by overnight courier from Glaus.” Jyac held up a handful of papers. Eiget closed the door behind Sark.

Sark approached the table and accepted the letter. She roamed the oversized chamber and read Jame’s words. “Not quite what we expected.”

“She wants to be joined with that woman,” Jyac said. “Argis shouldn’t have ever gone to Ynit.”

“You think she’s just angry at Argis?” Sark remembered how different Jame had acted with Argis during her last visit.

Jyac stood, wandered over to the clear quartz window, and stared outside. “I want to hope she’s angry with Argis. She was so uncertain about her feelings all the time she was here. Then Argis rushed off to Ynit following her stubborn pride rather than her brain.”

“You know, it’s possible that Jame no longer loves Argis,” Sark said.

“It’s possible.” Jyac ran a hand through her hair. “But she thinks she’s in love with that Guard, an outsider with a ruthless past. A warrior known for her compelling personality who’s probably using Jame’s skills to help her through her rehabilitation.”

“Then Jame will return to us brokenhearted but wiser for the experience,” Sark said. “Sometimes that’s the best thing that can happen.”

“And how do you propose we keep Argis from charging off to Ynit, once again, and challenging the former Supreme Commander of the Southern Territories?” Jyac asked.

“Argis has already struck her and she didn’t even try to fight back. What kind of warrior is that?” Sark tossed Jame’s letter onto the table. “If Argis kills her, we’ll lose Jame for sure.”

Jyac sighed. “We need to send a delegation to Ynit to get a first hand look at the situation.”

“Maybe we won’t have to do anything.” Sark shifted the sheets of paper on the table and put her finger on a passage. “She says she’s going to argue Tigh’s right to walk the streets of Glaus as a free citizen. Jame’s good but this sounds impossible even for her.”

“So you think the situation will naturally sort itself out if she loses this case?”

“If Tigh is using her, it will,” Sark said. “Maybe we’ll have Jame back with us sooner than we think.”

“Not a word of this until we hear from Glaus.” Jyac straightened. “Then Argis can go after Jame with our whole army at her back if need be.”

TIGH WAS CONVINCED Jame’s voice must have been touched with magic from the moment she was born. How else could the fifty-five members of the Council of Glaus and the near thousand spectators stop their whispers and mumbles as soon as Jame spoke. And all she said was “good afternoon.”

Jame looked puzzled at the immediate silence. “First off, I’d like to thank the city of Glaus for giving a deserving woman the chance to prove that not only can she return to society without consequence, but will most certainly become a distinguished citizen of the Southern Territories.”

Murmurs and whispers rose up from the hall. The Keeper of the Bench rapped a hollow pipe several times.

“Please proceed, Arbiter Jamelin.” Yanders Loften, the mayor of Glaus, motioned to Jame.

“Thank you, Mayor Yanders.” Jame flashed him a gracious smile.

Tigh almost laughed at the Mayor’s reaction to a full out assault of Jame’s charm. Magic. Nothing less.

“The Guard rehabilitation program has been completely successful,” Jame said. “To date, over seven hundred Guards from the regular regiments and eighteen former members of the Elite Guards have been rehabilitated. Now I ask. Has there even been a hint of a problem from any of them?”

“Eighteen Elite Guards?” Yanders asked in amazement.

Jame nodded. “Eighteen. Including Nark the Notorious, Silar, Rewn the Rough, Ienor Quet, and Patch Lachlan.” Each name brought a louder gasp from the spectators. “They’re all pursuing quiet productive lives.”

“Patch Lachlan?” Yanders asked.

“Patch Lachlan.” Jame drew the name out as she turned to the still, rapt spectators. “Now many consider Patch Lachlan to have been as ruthless as Tigh the Terrible and maybe would have grown to be much more vicious if the Wars had continued. Would the Council agree to this?”

Yanders looked behind him at the arched benches filled with Council members and all signaled mute agreement. “Patch Lachlan was the Elite Guard in charge of the siege engines for the taking of Operal. Our trees were chosen because of their size and strength. Many of us here were involved in moving the timber to the borderlands where Patch’s army was preparing for the attack on Operal. Both Tigh the Terrible and Patch Lachlan were there and many of us agreed that, while Tigh was cold and ruthless, she exuded a strong intelligence and control. But Patch.” He grimaced. “That woman was wild and cruel. Both women were terrifying to witness.”

Sometimes, Tigh mused, luck came to those who dug in the right places and knew how to use the small unexpected treasures found buried there. All it took was a mention of her name before stories of Patch Lachlan spilled out of the good people of Glaus. And all it took was her knowledge of where all the former Guards resided—gleaned from reading everything she could during her short time in the archives.

“Patch Lachlan has been a free member of our society for a year and a half,” Jame said. “She goes by her given name rather than her Guard name and has quickly established herself as a learned and respected member of the community in which she lives. Known for her wise and thoughtful personality, Patch has had no trouble fitting back into society. I think if she were still wild and cruel, we would have heard about it by now, don’t you?”

The Council members shifted.

“Maybe she’s been able to hide her violent tendencies,” Yanders said. “Some communities are more tolerant of that kind of behavior than others.”

“That’s true.” Jame nodded then lifted mischievous eyes to the Council. “But not true in this case. So, do you think a former Elite Guard who was wild and cruel and by all accounts destined to be more ruthless than Tigh the Terrible could live in a city such as Glaus as a peaceful law abiding citizen?”

“Of course not.” Yanders straightened then scanned the Council members for any other opinions on the subject. “We witnessed Patch Lachlan as an Elite Guard. It just isn’t possible that a person like that could act in a civilized manner.”

Tigh knew that Jame could bring her own passive presence into the argument and question them on whether she was the same woman they had witnessed on the borderlands before the siege of Operal. But that was the most logical next move and most likely expected. A move that could open up arguments based on opinions rather than logic and fact.

“If I were to show evidence that dispute your conviction that Patch Lachlan could not live as a respected citizen in a place like Glaus, would you agree the Guard rehabilitation program is successful and that Tigh is of no threat to this community?” Jame asked.

The Council took some time to confer on this. Their smug expressions told Jame they didn’t believe she could prove her case to them.

Yanders faced Jame and Tigh. “We’ll agree to your terms.”

“Thank you, Mayor.” Jame raised her eyes to the Council members. “I would like to call Patch Lachlan before the Council as evidence of the success of the Guard rehabilitation program.”

The stunned spectators gasped and twisted around, expecting the notorious Guard to enter the back of the chamber. When no one appeared, they settled into a tense, expectant silence.

A woman wrapped in the robe of an acolyte to Bal rose from a Council bench. The shocked silence wove a profound and satisfying feeling within Tigh.

Chapter 15

Jame woke from the kind of dream that could only come from the warmth and security of being wrapped in strong loving arms. She peered up in the gray light of the predawn and was surprised to see Tigh awake, just holding her. She shifted and captured Tigh’s attention.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Jame tightened her hold around Tigh.

“I was thinking.” Tigh brushed her fingertips over Jame’s arm.

“Thinking?” Jame asked.

Tigh sighed. “About Patch.”

Jame looked up amused. “You know, it’s not nice to be thinking of another woman while you’re sharing a bed with me.”

Tigh swooped down for a kiss and gifted Jame with an affectionate look. “I was just thinking about what she has to do to satisfy the need to fight.”

Jame nodded against Tigh’s shoulder. “She’s lucky there are several other Guards in Glaus she can spar with.”

“But fighting contradicts her personality and her profession as an acolyte to Bal,” Tigh said. “Her life is dedicated to nonviolence and helping the needy in the community and yet she has to fight to maintain her sanity.”

Jame lifted her head. “What about you?”

Tigh frowned. “I don’t understand why. But I don’t have the need to fight, only the want. To Patch, it’s like an addiction that has to be fed or she starts taking it out on everyone around her. I miss fighting and want to feel a sword in my hands again. I miss pulling my mind and body together into a single purpose of engaging an opponent. But I don’t have to fight.”

“That’s good,” Jame said. “You’ll make a perfect peace warrior.”

Tigh gazed down at Jame. “I just wish I could help her.”