Without a Front by Fletcher DeLancey
“I understand that, but the result is the same. He’s not a tile I can play.”
“Because you’re thinking like a templar. Sit back and let the warrior work a little tactical strategy for you.”
CHAPTER 16
Surprise visitor
Not four days after Lanaril’s meeting with Andira, she received a surprise visitor in her office.
“I hope you don’t mind my dropping in unannounced.” Prime Scholar Yaserka settled into one of her guest chairs, his long, thin body looking somewhat lost in its wide cushions. “I came to burn an offering and thought I’d check on a rumor while I was here.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, though I’m not certain how much help I can be with rumors,” Lanaril said. “I’m not well-connected with the political rumor circuit.”
“Of course not. But this one was about you.”
“Really? I can’t think how. My life is not that interesting.”
“No, no, not a personal rumor. I’m sorry if I gave that impression. No, I was informed that you were in the Lancer’s office earlier this nineday, asking for her support on something. And that you left looking, er, less than pleased with the result.”
“Ah, that. I’m afraid that’s fact, not a rumor.” She smiled inwardly. Yaserka had poked his nose in her business even earlier than Andira had predicted.
“May I ask why you went to the Lancer rather than coming to me? You know my door is open to you.”
“I do know that, and thank you. I would have gone to you with this, but it’s such a critical and volatile issue that I thought it needed the power of the Lancer’s office to handle it. But she refused.”
“She refused to help you?” His eyes glinted. “For what reason?”
“She said she had too much on her agenda to bother with something that was an internal scholar caste issue. It wasn’t important enough to her. But she’s wrong; her office should be handling it. It may only be affecting the scholars, but we can’t do anything about it without full Council approval. And without the Lancer’s support, I don’t see how we’ll ever get that.”
He settled back and rested his hands on one bony knee. “Tell me about this caste issue that our Lancer thinks is beneath her office.”
CHAPTER 17
Grand opening
“We have beaten all the projections and done what many said we could not do,” Prime Builder Eroles said in a clear voice. The crowd below them cheered, as they had for almost every other sentence she uttered.
Standing next to her, Tal couldn’t help smiling at such enthusiasm. She had never attended a grand opening like this one.
“Of course only Fahla can perform miracles,” Eroles continued, “but I think the builders have come pretty close, don’t you?”
This time the cheers could probably be heard all the way to Redmoon, and Eroles shot Tal a grin before turning back to the crowd.
“Just seven moons ago, this building was a pile of rubble. Eight hundred cycles of history gone in one morning. Gone in less than a hantick, because of an enemy that cared nothing for what they destroyed. But we have rebuilt, and we have done so with the very same stones that our ancestors shaped. Hundreds, thousands of hands helped us gather the stones. Six castes came together in the effort, a perfect illustration of why the Voloth could not break us. Because we are too strong together!”
More cheers, accompanied by whistles and shouts, and Tal had to admire the speaking skills of their Prime Builder. She held this crowd in her hand.
“In the last two days, as we have toured the reconstruction efforts here in Whitesun, Lancer Tal and I have been impressed over and over again by your determination, your industry, your resourcefulness. We have been humbled by the courage of a people who paid the highest price during the Battle of Alsea. We have rejoiced in the energy you are bringing to your recovery. And we are proud of your unbroken spirit. This house may belong to the builders, but it could not exist today without the help of all the castes and all of you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. And it is with great joy that I invite you in, because…” She took a breath and threw out her arms. “The Whitesun Builder Caste House is now open!”
The crowd roared, and the night sky exploded in light and color as the fireworks began. It was a rare moment of unadulterated triumph in a hard cycle, and Tal happily craned her neck to watch.
“Lancer Tal, will you be my guest?” Eroles held out a bent arm.
“I would be delighted.” Tal hooked their elbows together, and they walked side by side into the newly rebuilt caste house.
The high-ceilinged lobby was impressive with its intricate carvings and hand-painted floor tiles. A group of musicians played quietly to one side, while at least twenty servers at the long bar braced themselves for the onslaught.
“We’d better get our drinks now, or we’ll never see that bar again,” Eroles said.
“I like your priorities.”
Drinks in hand, they retreated to a quiet corner, taking a moment to themselves before a long night of political performance. Eroles looked even more brilliant than usual in a suit patterned with vivid blues, purples, and oranges, which contrasted sharply with her dark skin and black hair. Every time she moved her hands, musical sounds emanated from the many shining bracelets she wore. She was color and vivacious movement, and Tal felt a bit drab by comparison. Not even her dress uniform with its high-necked crimson jacket could stand up to the eyeful that Eroles presented, but that was just as well. She was only a guest tonight. The real star of the evening was the Prime Builder, who had presided over a reconstruction program that Tal had once thought overly optimistic.
“I have to agree with your speech,” she said. “The builders really did accomplish a miracle. I had chills walking through these doors just now. It seems like only last nineday that I was here after the battle and found nothing but debris. I almost wept.”
“I did weep.”
Tal nodded. The news footage showing the Prime Builder openly crying over the destruction of her caste’s second-greatest house had been replayed many times on the broadcasts. Eroles had always enjoyed a fair amount of popularity in her caste, but after that hit the news, she had become more than just their Prime. Now she embodied their visceral pain and their fierce drive to rebuild.
“I’m glad the builders decided to reconstruct the caste house as it was,” Tal said. “It seems…more appropriate, somehow. Like a great gesture of defiance to the Voloth. A statement that they couldn’t change us.”
“Oh, you have no idea what a debate that inspired. All over Alsea our caste houses spoke of nothing else. I was getting unsolicited architectural plans every day, and some of them would have put the State House to shame.”
Tal chuckled. “Imagine the jealousy.”
“I know. The Council would have had no peace until we’d authorized funds to ‘improve’ the other five Whitesun caste houses so they could catch up. And then all of the Blacksun caste houses would have been agitated because nothing in Blacksun is supposed to be smaller. I’ve got enough to do with rebuilding what we lost; Fahla knows I don’t need to be worrying about improving anything that isn’t broken.”
“Not to mention rebuilding what we blew up,” Tal said, thinking of Redmoon.
“That too.” Eroles shook her head. “I still can’t believe that after all we went through with the Voloth, some merchants are still thinking only of how they can profit.”
“It’s not limited to the merchants.”
“I know, but that dokker almost cost us Chief Kameha. He’s possibly the most valuable person on Alsea right now, and we could have lost him because some stupendously greedy fantenshekken wanted an extra twelve percent on his sale.”
They had restarted the Redmoon fusion test facility just two days ago, a moon and a half after the containment failure. Having already constructed the facility once,
“At least we derived some benefit from that disaster,” she said. “The merchant caste was sufficiently embarrassed to actually get behind Parser and Shantu’s plan for the task force. I think we have a better chance of addressing that corruption now than we’ve had in a long time.”
“I hope you’re right.” Eroles looked over the crowd that was streaming in. “We’ve got about two ticks before our show begins. I wanted to say something first.” She fixed Tal with her nearly black eyes. “One of the reasons the builders have been able to perform miracles is because we’ve got the Caphenon’s cargo matter printers behind us. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure to open up those printers to the other castes, but I’m deeply grateful that you’ve reserved them for reconstruction. We have to rebuild first and then move forward. And I think your strategy with the caste delegates is brilliant.” She gave Tal a knowing smile. “It isn’t just about listening to the concerns of the people. It’s also about delaying implementation until we’re done running around like yardbirds with twenty chicks.”
Tal tapped their glasses together in acknowledgment. “Very astute, Prime Builder. But that’s not a winning argument in the Council, so I didn’t offer it.”
“Half of the Councilors are idiots anyway,” Eroles said in a matter-of-fact tone, and Tal had to laugh.
“I’m afraid I can’t respond to that assessment,” she said.
Eroles chuckled and then turned as her name was called. “Show time,” she said, and moved away.
Tal was in no hurry to dive into that crowd. She sipped her drink, watching the finely dressed people drifting through the grand lobby, and enjoyed the few ticks she could get before her own performance began.
Eroles was right about the matter printers. Even discounting the enormous amount of work still to be done in laying the legal, social, and physical infrastructure for them, they were far too disruptive a technology to be released now. Not when so many of their resources were devoted to reconstruction after the Battle of Alsea, and especially not when the Alsean people were still so nervous about new technology. The Redmoon fusion disaster loomed large, and two days of flawless operation hadn’t magically erased everyone’s fears. It didn’t matter that the explosion had been caused by substandard parts and not the actual technology—after all, Alsea would still be depending on its merchants to provide parts for the other new technologies, such as the matter printers and space elevator. Current polls showed that the majority of Alseans wouldn’t be comfortable using the space elevator until it had already been in operation for at least a cycle.
It was crucial to regain the people’s trust before doing anything so drastic as releasing those matter printers. The Anti-Corruption Task Force spearheaded by Prime Merchant Parser and Prime Warrior Shantu was their best chance of accomplishing that—along with a steady, ongoing demonstration that Tal’s government had things in hand and was taking the people’s concerns into account.
With that in mind, she had been meeting regularly with delegations from the six castes, both to listen to their concerns and to explain her strategies and expectations. By her decree, the delegations excluded Council members, instead involving individuals selected by a lottery system. Those who wished to have a voice put their names in the system, and the randomly selected individuals were transported to Blacksun at the government’s expense. Tal wanted true representation and found herself enjoying these delegate meetings far more than any Council session. Some of the delegates were every bit as politically astute as their Council leaders, but most were simply concerned with their livelihoods and families, often bringing up considerations that neither Tal nor her advisors had thought of. Her policy drafts shifted with the input she took away from these meetings, and she was confident that if the matter printer technology had any unforeseen ill effects, it would not be for lack of effort on her part.
A knot of Whitesun city officials approached, and Tal put on her politician’s mantle. For the next two hanticks she mingled, chatted, and smiled, keeping a half-full glass of spirits in her hand to ward off the offers of additional drinks. At times like these, it was best to stay alert. Her Guards lined the walls and had empathically screened everyone entering, but the sheer number of people around her meant anything could happen.
If she were honest with herself, she would admit to another reason for staying sharp. Darzen lived in Whitesun and advised the city council. She had certainly been invited to this grand opening, but just to be sure, Tal had sent her a message confirming her own attendance along with an invitation for her to drop by. Perhaps a public venue would make Darzen more comfortable about speaking with her.
But as the night wore on with no sign of her, Tal mentally closed the door on that relationship. Yes, it would have been nice to patch things up, but it wasn’t going to happen. And she had too much on her agenda to waste any more time wishing otherwise.
She had just said good night to a departing group of crafters when a soft voice sounded from behind her.
“Lancer Tal?”
“Yes?” Tal turned to find a woman with graying hair piled atop her head in an elegant twist. She wore a dark blue evening dress and had a white-knuckled grip on her drink.
The woman held up her palm. “I’m Kylinn Tousander. Head librarian at West Quarter Academy in Whitemoon.”
“Well met, Deme Tousander.” Tal addressed her by the honorific for a secular scholar and touched their palms together. She paused for a moment, startled by the fear coming through their touch and the whisper of deep pain that ran beneath it.
“Please, call me Kylinn. The children call me Deme Tousander.” Her smile was brief and did not reach her eyes. “I wonder if I might speak with you about…ah…about…”
Her front was almost impervious to Tal’s senses, which meant she was a very highly rated empath. Tal added up the signs and said, “About the Voloth?”
Kylinn sagged, nearly dropping her glass. “How did you know that?”
“I recognize that particular flavor of pain. It’s a new one to our people.” Tal rescued the glass from Kylinn’s hand and escorted her over to the nearest wall. In the relative quiet, she asked, “You fought in Whitemoon?”
Kylinn nodded. “I’m here visiting a friend, the head librarian at Whitesun University. She had an invitation to this opening and asked if I wanted to come along. I hoped I could speak with you.”
“And here you are,” Tal said gently. “What can I do for you, Kylinn?”
It took the scholar a few moments to find her words. “I’ve been watching the news…I mean, about the resettlement. When Whitemoon was mentioned as a possible site, it felt as if we were being invaded all over again. I couldn’t believe anyone would consider it.”
Tal handed her drink back, projecting understanding as their fingers brushed.
The Council had run into local resistance with every proposed settlement site for exactly that reason. No veterans could stomach the idea of Voloth soldiers living anywhere near them, and those who hadn’t fought protested simply on principle. Having run out of options, the Council finally voted to set aside some land near Blacksun Base. It kept the Voloth away from Alsean populations and under the eye of the warriors, which satisfied popular opinion. It also kept them from any real opportunity of integration, which was not at all what Tal had hoped for. For now they seemed content, since they were occupied in building their own community from the ground up, but she wondered what would happen when that was done and they began to realize their isolation. Rax Sestak had remained their spokesperson and told Tal that isolation was exactly what most of them wanted, but she couldn’t help thinking that this was a skin-sealer solutio
“When I heard they were going to be settled by Blacksun Base, I thought that was it,” Kylinn said. “They were far away and I’d never have to see or think of them again. But then my counselor mentioned the new program—the one that sets up meetings between us and the Voloth we turned.”
“It’s had some good results,” Tal said. “Though it’s not yet running at full speed. The mental healers are being cautious and everyone is still learning what to expect. But overall, it has helped both sides.”
“I don’t know anyone who’s done it. Actually, I hardly know any other veterans, except Rafalon. He was in my unit.”
There would have been two others in her unit as well. The fact that Kylinn didn’t mention them meant her unit had suffered a fifty percent fatality rate.
Tal’s heart went out to this soft-spoken scholar who had seen too much. “You do know someone who has done it.”
“That’s why I wanted to see you. You were the very first one to face a soldier you turned. I’m not a warrior; I don’t have the courage you—”
“Stop,” Tal said. “Don’t speak to me of not having courage. You volunteered to fight an enemy you’d never seen before. You fought the worst battle our people have ever lived through, and you did it with no training other than four days of frantic instruction. I honor your courage.”
Kylinn leaned against the wall, her eyes tearing up. “Thank you,” she whispered. “But I don’t feel like that. I feel…afraid. Like I got away with something, but I know that somewhere, sometime, there has to be a reckoning.”
“Like you committed a crime and should be punished?”
The tears slipped down Kylinn’s cheeks. “You understand.”
“I do. So do thousands of other veterans. Surely your counselor has told you you’re not alone in this.”
“Yes, he does that at practically every session. But that doesn’t help when I go home and look at my bondmate and son. They’re so…innocent, and so are all of the children at my school and most of the other instructors. I don’t feel like I belong. And before you ask, yes, we have a veterans group and my counselor says I should join it. But I’m not interested in being part of a group where the only thing we have in common is the way we’re all—”