After dressing in a day gown of sunny yellow, Tadessa mulled over her father’s words, still irritated. He knew about her conflicts with Blades while she lived on the streets with her biological father, Snake. She never wanted to kill anyone, but Blades remained relentless in their attacks on those with Krindarwee-dark skin, even on those of obvious half heritage, such as hers.
The worst incident, a story she never told even her mother, occurred the year before her Nevian father stole her away from Snake. The event exploded in their faces without warning. As they stepped out of an airway, their backs to the entrance, a group of about thirty Blades surrounded them on three sides, most blending into the shadows as dusk stole the light.
She felt her father’s fear. Back to back, he told her in mind speech, as they eased into the first steps of the Dance, pulling their knives.
The Blades sprang toward them. They rushed the little girl and her father, attempting to bludgeon them with their numbers as well as their knives and clubs. She and her father, their sharp knives flashing at hands, wrists and arms, their feet leaping to strike an unprotected belly or throat, fought back in desperation. Daddy Snake halted two with his mind while he fought two more. Tadessa stopped a knife before it reached the skin on her neck, while she kicked the knee of another. They slashed in a blur of energy. Blood flowed each time she or her father connected with a Blade’s skin until the ground became slippery.
As suddenly as it began, the battle stopped. The remaining Blades fled. Those unable to flee tried to crawl away, but many bled into the ground, dying or dead.
Tadessa vomited into the carnage. She always did. Death, even the death of an enemy, violated her to her core. She wept for the fallen.
Tears clouded her eyes again as she remembered that battle. With his military background, her Nevian father never understood how much “going for the kill” cost her, no matter how many times she explained it.
She swiped at her tears before taking one last glance in the mirror, pausing to admire the yellow day gown she selected for today, her favorite color. She touched the yellow ribbon she wove into the dark braid she wound around her head. Her half-sister, S’ar Wenda, laughed at her refusal to call one of her maids to iron and style her hair, but Tadessa preferred not to waste the time when she found it easier to braid it herself. She resented this evening’s formal dinner, when her family entertained the representatives from the Intergalactic Faj. She wondered what kind of an elaborate hair style Sentille, her maid, would choose. That irritated her too. So much angst, she thought, afraid of it. Everything upsets me today.
Tadessa quickened her steps. Right now, she needed to hurry to breakfast if she intended to see her mother at all. Mama’s office as High Commissioner kept her far busier than either one of them liked.
As she left the training room her two bodyguards fell into step behind her. She let her mind drift back to them, skimming their surface thoughts. For some reason they were hyper-alert today. Dedicated, serious, they scanned everything around them, as well as her back, as if they expected trouble. Their vigilance concerned her. Surly the presence of the Emperor’s family was no more than another affair of state. Her family had hosted numerous events for visiting dignitaries, making the necessity of two guards instead of just one. Usually Lance Winn and Brint Shuwey took turns guarding her, except when her family entertained visitors. She expected their presence, just not their excessive watchfulness.
She wanted to ask them, but knew they would refuse to answer. Colonel Berti, who scheduled the A’nden House guards, forbade them to socialize with her, no small-talk, no questions. That was easy with Officer Winn who never showed emotion, and always kept her at arm’s length. Officer Shuwey, on the other hand, sometimes allowed a small smile to touch him, especially when she addressed him as Brint and not Officer. His smile brightened his blue eyes, and seemed to give his brown hair and freckles a bit of a sparkle as well.
Fanciful thinking. They are my bodyguards, not my suitors.
But sometimes she wondered how curling into Brint’s arms would feel. She imagined his blue uniform jacket slung across a chair, and his pale blue shirt unbuttoned. She sat on his lap and ran her fingers through the thick brown hair on his head…
She shoved the image away, hurrying faster. Although late for breakfast, she halted the impulse to run. Running is not appropriate for ladies in her position, she had been told often enough. Instead, she strode briskly down the hall toward the elevators.
She found it hard to follow all the rules. She knew them, how to stand, when to bow, how keep her language acceptable while making her body convey a hundred different contrary emotions. Every movement expressed something.
Her mother could give a compliment while her body mocked the same person. No more Nevian than Tadessa, she used Nevian body language with extraordinary skill. More than one person fled from her mother’s presence, either afraid or embarrassed, some of them in tears, even while Mama’s words said nothing objectionable. Tadessa admired her mother’s grasp of Nevian culture—some of the time.
Mostly, Tadessa just wished none of the posturing and innuendo was necessary.
Today, however, Tadessa struggled with everything. All her emotions felt too intense. Her father didn’t know how close she came to hurting him. In a split-second decision, she moved the knife from its intended target, his neck, to the stripe of white hair at his temple. She knew his speed, gauged it, and could have slipped past his response, too easily. The slice she intended, deep enough to kill, would have come too quickly for him to counter. A growing vicious part of her wanted to break free from all the restrictions, and cause havoc, just the opposite of how she lived. She had no idea what to do with herself today. Something hung in the air, a menace without a name that seeped into everyone’s actions and left her emotions on edge.
The reason she felt it necessary today to be totally Krindarwee evaded her. It grated on her that her father wanted to force her into his Nevian mold, even though she never felt that way before. By now she surely knew he would never grasp her Krindarwee culture. This wasn’t the first time she had allowed him to see her as fully Krindarwee, and watch as he turned from it. Still, she should never have sung that way, in full expression the way Daddy Snake taught her. When he still lived, Snake read from the Tapestries the way she sang the Song. He made them come alive in scent, sound and color, wind, water and sun. But she hadn’t sung the Song to share her people’s sorrow with him. She had sung it to dig under his skin, to let him know that he couldn’t control her—that no one could.
What is wrong with me?
You need to come to me. The emotions you feel are natural, but they need guidance.
Zilla. She almost breathed a sigh of relief. Grandmother Zilla provided her the only connection she had with her people. Through her guidance, Zilla taught her more about being a Lorekeeper than either parent knew. I need to see my grandfather.
Yes. But before you lose control, you need to see me.
Tadessa sensed another, hidden, reason Zilla wanted to see her. A sudden urge to leave right now, this very moment, nearly overwhelmed her.
Yes! Zilla said, reading her emotion. Now, before it’s too late.
She stood in front of the elevator doors. Tadessa knew she could step into Null in an eyeblink and escape this place.
Brint pressed the elevator button. Neither one took their eyes off her. Both guards stepped through the doors with her. Lance pressed the button to the rooftop garden. They knew her schedule.
Too late?
In the next moment she desperately wanted to be with her mother, as if she were a child again, suddenly fearing her whole world might come crashing down.
Tadessa, come to me.
She heard the old woman’s urgency, and knew she needed to obey her. Her head felt hot, flushed with confusion. This, also, had never happened before.
You’re coming into your Time.
/> Her sister, S’ar, who had already passed her Time, told her that at first nothing seemed to happen. Zilla worked with her on control and submission to Khaadi’s will, nothing more. Tadessa felt less urgency about approaching her Time than with the unidentified urgency behind Zilla’s invitation.
The first part of a transition works slowly, giving the child time to learn control. It may feel as though you may not need my guidance for a while yet, but never underestimate the value of these primary lessons.
Later, she said.
Today, Zilla insisted.
She pushed the feelings aside and focused her attention on seeing her mother. Most mornings, in her mother’s garden retreat, she enjoyed Mama’s presence without being watched, as if the two of them were alone in the world. She cherished this part of her day. Not even Zilla’s mandate would keep her from this one appointment.
Two of Mama’s guards already stood outside the double doors. Their maroon D’ey Sol uniforms contrasted with the A’nden blues that always surrounded Tadessa. Adopted by General Del A’nden, Tadessa represented the A’nden House, while her mother, even though married to an A’nden, kept her D’ey Sol House colors. Mama had also kept her name, refusing to become an A’nden, no matter what society expected. Her name reminded people that a D’ey Sol still ruled.
Outside this retreat, servants and guards, busy with their appointments, littered the halls. Since the arrival of the Faj representatives, she never knew who might be listening, watching. Their guests arrived with even more servants. With all the preparations for tonight’s feast, her mother hired additional people to tend to their many guests.
Servants and guards, she mused, their constant presence frustrating her. They seemed to overhear everything. Tadessa could tell just by listening to their surface thoughts, floating thoughts, she had called them as a child.
Her guards, as was their custom, posted themselves outside the doors to the rooftop garden. The doors remained locked, even when K’arrala D’ey Sol sat inside alone. Aside from her parents, only Tadessa knew the code. She pressed it and paused to feel the quietness of this place as she entered. The doors locked behind her.
This arborium was Mama’s favorite place. K’arrala D’ey Sol, the Lady Commissioner of Sector Five, cherished these moments of peace away from the demands of the Council. She watched the seasons changed without feeling the weather. In this place the bitter winters never touched her. In the summer, the glass dome over the indoor garden allowed light, but never too much heat into the room. Tadessa loved this room too.
She placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek before taking the chair across from her at the small round table.
“Good morning, Mama.” She admired her mother’s elegant hairstyle. Piled in an elaborate weave and studded with garnets, her brown hair streaked with strands of silver, no longer showed the red and gold highlights that once lit it with warmth. Mama needed to get out in the sun more.
“Good morning, darling. Have some of the fruit fritter. It’s delicious.”
Tadessa scooped several fritter patties onto her plate. One smell of the aroma was enough to make Tadessa’s mouth water and her stomach growl in anticipation.
As was Tadessa’s practice, she raised her arms and gave a quiet prayer of thanks to Khaadi, her peoples’ deity. Her mother never corrected this daily ritual, even though her father forbade every other aspect of her Krindarwee heritage, to keep her safe. In every other place except Sector Five, being Nevian was the only way to avoid conflict with authorities from other Sectors, probably Faj authorities too.
“So how did your morning martial arts with your father go, Chalatta?”
Tadessa frowned at the name, not the question. Aside from her half-sister, she was the only one who still called herself Tadessa. Complaining always earned her a reprimand, so she kept silent.
Her mother’s name also changed since moving here. People addressed her by her title, sometimes even reciting all of it: “Lady Commissioner, K’arrala D’ey Sol, the adopted daughter of the deceased Master of the Discipline, Prince Virol D’ey Sol, the last Priest of the Formalist Path, and heir to the Imperial House.” She found that amusing when they went to that much trouble.
“The way it always goes.” Tadessa picked up her fork and cut into one of the fritters. “He’s upset with me because I never press forward in an attack.”
“Why don’t you? You fought Blades when you lived in the Area. You weren’t afraid to attack them.” Tadessa felt her mother’s gaze on the scar on her cheek. “You also defended yourself well against my brother’s assassins.”
Like her father, Mama seemed to have forgotten that the Krindarwee never killed except in self-defense.
“He’s not a Blade. Most Blades are Normals. I never tried to kill any of them. They had one thought: ‘kill the Krindarwee girl.’ All I ever needed to do was defend myself, and they made stupid mistakes that killed them.”
She always hated it. She wondered why her mother never seemed to remember how much the carnage sickened her, even when it consisted of stupid Blades.
To her delight the food was not cold. She dug in.
“Your father is more of a challenge, is that it? You let him beat you every time.”
“His ability with a knife, weapons, any of the martial arts, or even weaponless hand-to-hand combat challenge me, true. I match him each time we train. But I don’t press forward because he intends me no harm.”
“You can’t know what he’s thinking. He shields his thoughts from you, right?”
Tadessa never told either parent that it took no more than the single tug of a thread to know what her father thought, even though she refused to pry. It was rude to pry into the minds of others, Zilla insisted. Both parents underestimated her abilities, and she was very careful never to let them know the extent of her ambigah. Talent, she corrected a heartbeat later. They called it Talent. Only the Krindarwee used ambigah to refer to the use of her natural abilities. In her mind, however, ambigah, which literally meant The Threads of Life, was more accurate. Whether people possessed or lacked Talent, Khaadi gifted people with access to Life itself.
“He shields well,” she said. “Mostly I don’t press toward a kill because he’s Nevian, and the restriction remains never to let them know what I can really do.”
“You’re Nevian too, in culture, if not biogenetically. For some reason you don’t choose to accept that.”
They had been through this discussion before. Her mother never quite understood, no matter how many times Tadessa tried to explain it. “The restriction remains, Mama.”
“Why would that make any difference?”
“I’m Krindarwee. It makes a difference.” She needed to stop wasting her breath. Neither K’arrala nor Del seemed to hear her when she mentioned her race and culture. She wanted to scream in frustration.
Then she stopped the thought with a jolt of panic. She never wanted to scream in frustration before. For eight years now she lived with being a Krindarwee in a Nevian world, and it never bothered her to this extent before. What was happening to her?
Your Time is Crisis is approaching. You need to come to me.
No Talent survived adolescence without help. Being extraordinarily Talented, Tadessa needed Grandmother Zilla more than she needed anyone else right now, except her grandfather.
I will, she promised. Right after breakfast.
Then she made her second mistake of the day and sang into her mother’s mind too.
It wasn’t until Mama’s eyes widened in fear that she realized the severity of her mistake. Daddy Snake always made his wife forget when he shared his culture internally with her. For some reason, her mother never accepted the strength of his Krindarwee abilities. Mama had never heard the Song before. She had never smelled the flowers, heard the birds singing, or felt the heat and humidity of a southern forest. When Tadessa sang, she fille
d every sense with color and texture, scent and sensation, the way she learned it.
“No.” Mama got up from the table, still staring at her daughter. “No, you cannot be like that. You cannot be…”
“Like my father, my real father? Why not?”
“This is your world now. You don’t know how important it is for you to fit in here.”
“As in my life depends on it? I know it does, but I can’t stop…”
“Enough. We will not discuss this further, and you will never do…whatever it was you did…again. Do you understand me?”
Tadessa stifled a sigh. “Yes, Mama.”
“Finish your breakfast and then see Counselor B’sheer. He has planned a series of qualifying exams for today to determine which of the professions you are to enter. I will see you this evening at dinner.” She gave Tadessa a piercing look. “I meant what I said, Chalatta. Representatives from the Intergalactic Faj arrived early this morning. They will never allow you to explain your abilities to them.”
Tadessa did sigh then. “Yes, Mama.” She was not looking forward to the extensive dinner planned in their guests’ honor.
“That goes for the how you act around the help as well. We have hired dozens of extra people to see to our guests. Watch yourself.”
Tadessa said nothing. There was nothing to say.
5
growing alarm