I ONCE WAS LOST
Kerry Lindemann-Schaefer
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
"Amazing Grace" by John Newton
The portable phone buzzed once, but Francis ignored it, too busy stuffing a load of blankets into the washing machine. Despite the cold rain beating down outside, it was uncomfortably warm in the laundry room. The machines had been running constantly all morning, as Francis and Willy Roquist, the Inn's maintenance man, worked to get all the blankets, bedspreads, towels and linens cleaned and stored away for the winter. For the next four months, there wouldn't be enough tourists in Cartersville to keep the Inn in business, so it was more economical to simply shut down.
The phone buzzed again.
"All right, all right. Keep your skirt on, as the humans would say," Francis mumbled irritably. "I'll answer you in a minute." Tucking the last blanket into the tub, he set the dial and started the washer before reaching for the receiver clipped to his belt.
He yanked the antenna out to its full length and thumbed the button, reciting automatically, "Atlantic Inn. May I help you?"
"Mr. Bernardone, this is Larry Hatfrey."
Not exactly someone he wanted to speak to right now.
"Yes?" he said curtly.
"I hear tell you and your partner have had a bit of a falling-out. Perhaps you may be considering selling the Inn?"
"No, Mr. Hatfrey. I don't think so."
"That's too bad," Larry replied smoothly. "I'm in the position to make you both a very good offer."
"You made a good offer last summer and we turned you down, remember?"
"Ah, but I can do even better than that now."
Better? You offered us half again what this place is worth already.
"I'm sorry, but the answer is still no."
"Tsk tsk tsk. You just never learn, do you? Well, perhaps Ms. Fisher will look at things differently."
"She won't sell either."
"Are you so sure of that?"
Francis only wished that he were. Pat might very well want out, at this point. Nevertheless, he replied firmly, "She wouldn't sell to you, Larry. Not so the inn could become part of your resort."
"We'll see about that," the oily voice on the phone replied with maddening confidence. "Everyone has a price, you know."
"Not Pat."
She wouldn't. Would she?
"Maybe you'd like to hear my offer?"
Francis was beginning to lose patience. He wasn't in a good mood to start with. His barely healed foot throbbed from standing too long, and now this tert had the effrontery to go on bothering him.
"No," he snapped.
Larry's voice turned hard. "Very well, Mr. Bernardone. But I'd advise you to think about it. No more offers will be forthcoming. This is your last chance."
The line went dead.
Now why did he get the feeling that those words referred to more than just a final offer of money?
He shrugged and turned off the phone. Let Larry play his games. There was work to be done.
By early evening, Francis was relaxing in front of a crackling fire in his woodstove, snacking on a plate of raw seagull wings and congratulating himself on a job well done.
It had taken barely a week to shut down the Inn, once it officially closed after Thanksgiving. The water was turned off, the pipes drained, all the ground-floor windows secured and shuttered, the laundry done, the "Closed" signs up, and a long list of other minor tasks completed. Willy had been invaluable to him over the last few days. Without Pat's expertise, Francis hadn't been entirely sure what needed to be done, but the black man had been full of suggestions and ideas, so together they had made it through. He was sorry to have to lay the human off for the winter, but at least Willy would be able to collect unemployment and know he had a job waiting for him again in the spring.
When someone knocked on the door to his cottage, Francis groaned. The last thing he wanted just now was to be disturbed, but it would be hard to pretend he wasn't home when his van was parked in plain sight in the driveway.
*Francis! Come on, open up! I know you're in there! *
That was Scarlett O'Hara's voice. Wearily, Francis hoisted himself out of his chair. Maybe she'd have some word from Pat, who was staying at her house since she'd left the Inn.
After inviting Scarlett in and making the Tenctonese woman comfortable in front of the stove, Francis brought out more wings and a quart of nicely aged sour milk.
*You've got to do something about this situation with Pat,* Scarlett began, pouring herself a glass of milk.
*Hmph,* he retorted. *Why don't you tell her that? *
*Because she won't listen to us! And because you're Tenctonese.*
*So?*
*So have you heard the rumors going around lately? *
*What has Pat been telling people?* he demanded angrily.
*She hasn't said anything. That's part of the problem. Rumor breeds faster on ignorance than on anything else.*
Huh! Not in this case.
*All anyone knows is that the two of you had a falling-out. Would you like to hear a few of the speculations as to why?*
*Not particularly.*
Scarlett ignored his last remark. Holding up one hand, she ticked off the rumors on her fingers as she spoke. *You were lovers and had a quarrel. That's the most innocuous.* A finger went down. *You're trying to force her to sell to Larry, against her principles. He's made no secret of the fact that he's just made you an offer, by the way.* Another finger folded. *You're pressuring her to get involved with some criminal scheme backed by Overseers with whom you're still in league.* Another finger and a sour grimace. *Pat found out what you really did on the Ship and wants nothing more to do with you.* She paused to take a breath. *Shall I go on?*
Francis shook his head. *People believe all this about me?*
*No! I mean, some do, of course. But most of us are just confused and puzzled and grasping at possible explanations.*
*You're all assuming I'm at fault,* he complained petulantly. *No one seems to be blaming Pat for what happened.*
Scarlett picked up a seagull wing and rolled her eyes elaborately. *Come now. What would you think, in our situation? You're the one with the tattoo, not Pat. You may not like it, but you're the one who's going to have to prove himself in any given situation.*
*How many times do I have to prove myself* he demanded. *What do I have to do that I haven't already done? In the name of the Infinitely Holy, what do you all expect from me?!*
Scarlett appeared entirely unruffled by his outburst as she made quick work of the wing. She waved the bare bone for emphasis as she answered his rhetorical question in all seriousness.
*In this case, we expect you to make peace with Pat. Or give us some reason for what's going on. It's tearing our community apart. A few folks are on your side, saying it shows you can't trust a human. Others want to trust you, but this has shaken them. Others are just as sure you've finally shown your true colors and that's why Pat left. People who used to support the Committee to Sink Schooners Landing are talking about pulling out. This is destroying us, Francis, and it's up to you to do something about it.*
Plunking the bone back down onto the plate, she leaned back in her chair and took a hefty swallow of milk, as Francis sat staring sullenly into the fire. Scarlett finally broke the awkward silence with a sigh of elaborate exasperation. Waving one hand in a sweeping gesture that seemed to encompass the entire room, she asked gently, *How much does all this mean to you, Francis?*
*What, the Inn?*
*No. The whole thing. This town, this county, the newcomer community. Having a home and being part of something permanent. Being binnaum to all these folks. Is it something you really want, or just a game you've been playing?*
*It is -- no -- game,* he replied slowly.
*Then you damn well better open your eyes and look around you, because you're about to lose it all. Is that what you want?*
*No,* he admitted.
The silence fell again. A log crumbled in the stove, throwing a shower of bright sparks against the grill. Rain beat down on the roof overhead.
*Pat really hasn't said anything to you?* he asked when he could stand it no longer.
*Not a word. The funny thing is that she doesn't seem angry, just hurt. She thinks she's hiding it from me, but I know she spends a lot of time crying. What did you do to her anyway?* Scarlett held up a hand, forestalling any reply Francis might have been about to make. *No, don't answer. Just settle it, that's all.*
She drained her glass. Without another word, she got up and walked out the door, leaving Francis to sit staring into the flames, brooding.
Despite being exhausted, he didn't sleep at all well that night.
Late the following morning, Francis opened the front door of the Inn and flicked on the overhead light. The Office was cold and dank in contrast to the bright winter sunshine outside. A thin layer of dust dulled the shine on the grained cedar surface of the Front Desk itself. The usual cheery scent of coffee brewing in the rec room was conspicuous by its absence.
"I've seen mausoleums that looked more cheerful," he muttered in annoyance.
The office chair behind the desk sat empty, its once-new seat cushion now dented with the imprint of the past season's usage. Brochures of local attractions sprawled out of their racks and onto the floor, subtly disordered by stray drafts of air, or perhaps the feet of field mice seeking a haven from the cold.
He'd have to set some traps. Not only shouldn't the small rodents be allowed to infest the Inn, but they also made tasty snacks.
The calendar on the wall next to the Desk would soon be out of date. Time to find a new one. Reservation calls would begin coming in over the winter and he'd need to be able to see the dates.
Francis slammed his fist onto the surface of the Desk, hard enough to hurt but not to crack the wood. He couldn't run this place without Pat. There were a million and one details that had to be remembered, a multitude of things only she knew how to do. Why, he didn't even know how to make out the ridiculously complicated tax forms that would soon be due, much less handle the rest of the bookkeeping.
If she didn't come back --
Well then, he'd just have to hire staff who did know all these things, wouldn't he? It wasn't impossible.
No, but it would be awfully lonely.
He walked through the doorway and on into the rec room. The plate glass windows that faced the Yaupon River were covered with sheets of plywood, but slivers of light leaked in around the edges.
In the muffled stillness, he kept expecting to hear Pat's voice. Memories crowded close around him, jostling each other for his attention. How optimistic they'd been, on that day only a little more than a year ago when they had first taken over the Inn. The way they had laughed together as they cleaned and rearranged the rec room. The first time he'd built a fire in the old stone fireplace -- and forgotten to open the damper. The times they'd sat here talking long into the night. The cheerful hubbub of guests coming in for a morning cup of coffee and waiting to hear Pat's lecture on the ecology of the saltmarsh, before they followed her along the trails that had been painstakingly cleared through the undergrowth and briars along the river.
Ruefully, he reflected that Pat was the guiding spirit of the Inn. He could keep it running by himself, but it would never be the same. It would be a body without a soul, just another rundown motel struggling to stay in business. He might as well sell out and leave.
*And what will this little group of newcomers be, Bin Treyma, without a binnaum to keep alive the traditions of the past, and to make possible the future? You may earn your living as an innkeeper, but you are called to something more. *
Bitterly, he muttered to the intrusive voice in his mind, *I am called to nothing, Kheersa. I am an imposter and a fraud.*
*You stumble, child. But you will find the way. *
*No. Someone like me isn't needed here. I should leave.*
*A Tenctonese community has a spirit, as truly as this Inn does. You are that spirit. They need you. *
He shook his head in denial.
*The darkness gathers, Bin Treyma, and the silence grows. Will you confront it -- or run away and allow it to triumph?*
*What do you mean?*
The voice did not reply.
*Kheersa! Answer me!*
In the dimness of the shuttered room, there was only quiet. With a strangled curse, Francis walked over to the desk, picked up the phone and dialed Scarlett's number.
An hour later, he sat facing Pat in the living room of Scarlett's house, clutching a full mug of coffee in his hand. Scarlett and Gypsy had gone out to a movie, leaving the two of them alone. Although Pat had grudgingly agreed to talk to him, judging by her face, he wasn't at all sure it wouldn't be a complete waste of breath. He'd never seen her look so sad and hopeless. Even her tightly curled black hair seemed to droop, if that was possible.
He didn't know where to begin, but Pat solved that problem for him by speaking first.
"Larry's been in touch with me. He still wants to buy the Inn." Her voice was as dead as the expression on her face.
"I know."
"He's offering a very good price."
"I told him I wasn't interested."
"I told him I might be."
Francis almost bolted to his feet in surprise. As it was, he sloshed hot coffee out of the cup and over his hand. Not even bothering to wipe it off, he blurted out, "You can't mean that! Not after the things we've done."
"Francis, I'm tired of all this. I want out. After the way you betrayed me --"
"I betrayed you?!"
No, he wouldn't react like that. He stopped and took a deep breath. Swallowing the words he might have said, he waved a hand in a quick gesture of negation and went on more calmly. "No, forget I said that. Do you seriously mean to say you want to sell out to that bastard?"
"I want us to sell the Inn, yes. I want to get out of this hick town and start over somewhere else. My share of the money would give me enough to do that."
"Damnit, Pat! You know what he'll do to the Inn if he gets his hands on it."
She just shrugged and said listlessly, "So what? I won't be here to watch."
This just wasn't like Pat at all. She shouldn't be reacting this way. There was more to all this than he understood. There had to be.
"What about the Committee to Sink Schooners Landing? What about the protests we had planned? Are you just going to let him win?"
"Francis, I don't really care anymore."
"You can't mean that." But the tone of her voice told him all too clearly that she did. This simply didn't sound like the Pat he knew. Anger, yes. He could understand that. But not the way she was acting now.
For the first time, it occurred to Francis that he might not be the only person for whom buried chunks of the past could rise up like ghosts to haunt the present. For all he knew, someone in Pat's life may once have betrayed her trust, in a situation similar enough to this to make her overly suspicious and touchy. There were things that pushed his buttons and made him react in ways he didn't want. Wasn't it just possible that Pat might have her own buttons? And somehow he had pushed them?
"Pat, please. Can't we talk about this?"
"I have nothing to say to you."
That sounded awfully final. Was there no way to get around it? "Remember after Verna Dixon was killed by the Klan, when you took me to the beach?"
"I remember. So what?"
"What did you tell me to do with my fear, to lessen its hold over me?" he persisted.
"Face it and learn to understand it," she replied unwillingly.
"Well then, what are you afraid of now? Why won't you even let me try to explain?"
"I'm not afraid. I just don't believe you anymore."
"You're afraid I'll lie to you, then?"
"All right. You might put it that way."
She sounded distinctly annoyed now. That was an improvement over the lack of feeling he'd encountered so far.
"Very well then, worst case scenario: I do lie. Then what?"
"I'll find out. And I'll be hurt -- again."
"Best case scenario?"
"You tell the truth. Which I may not like either," she added hastily.
"Is the risk so awful, compared to selling out your principles to Larry Hatfrey?"
No reply.
"Pat, please. All I'm asking is a chance to explain what went on between Bin Thanika and me." This wasn't working. He decided to take the plunge. "Tell you what: if you haven't changed your mind after hearing me out, I agree that we'll sell the Inn."
Well, what good was it to him alone anyway? Without her, it was nothing but an old building.
Something that might almost have been a smile passed over her face and then was gone. "All right, Francis. I am, as we humans say, all ears. Convince me. If you can."
Well, here's your chance. Now what are you going to say? he asked himself nervously.
"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you might have misunderstood what was going on?" he began.
"You expect me to believe that? Hey, my Tenctonese isn't perfect, but it's not that bad!"
"But could you hear everything we said? Mightn't you have missed parts, or heard things wrong?"
"Okay, I suppose that may be possible," she conceded. "But what I did hear was bad enough. When you admitted you killed someone, you showed no more feeling about it than if you had said you'd just swatted a fly. Then you tried to justify what you did by saying it was necessary so you could become an Overseer!"
"I said other things too. I told Thanika I regretted my choices."
"Words, Francis. Just words. There was no conviction behind them."
"Bin Thanika was on the edge of shooting me. By staying as calm and reasonable as I did, I was only trying to defuse his emotional volatility."
"You couldn't know that would work."
"As a child, Thanika was always quick-tempered. Some of his outbursts even overrode the numbing effects of the gas, and that took a considerable amount of emotional energy, believe me! If I had provoked that anger, he would very likely have shot me in a fit of rage. I tried to avoid that, hoping that he wouldn't be able to kill when he wasn't enraged."
"Well, I suppose that could make sense." She shook her head. "I must admit I thought you were crazy for egging him on the way you did near the end. How could you be so sure he wasn't going to kill you?"
"I wasn't. Not until he lowered the gun."
"What would you have done if it hadn't worked?"
"Died."
From the look on her face, it was obvious she wasn't going to buy that. "No one just sits still and let's someone kill them. That's crazy."
"Only if you do it with the wrong person. I knew Thanika and I knew his ethics. Despite his words, I had reason to believe he wouldn't kill me in cold blood."
"He claimed he'd already shot you once. Why wouldn't he do it again?"
"Last time he thought he was keeping me from murdering someone."
Kheersa's face, centered in the sights of his rifle. His finger tightening on the cold metal of the trigger.
"Did he?"
Bemused by the sudden flashback, Francis replied stupidly, "Did he what?"
"Keep you from murdering someone?"
He shifted position in the chair, uncrossing one leg and then crossing the other. He took a long sip of the rapidly cooling coffee that was left in his cup. He didn't really want to answer that, but it seemed he had no choice.
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"Who?"
"That's not the topic under discussion here."
"Something else you won't tell me about, Francis?" A bitter smile crossed her face. "Something else you expect me to believe you're sorry for?"
"Yes, damnit!"
"Okay. And what if I still don't believe you? What if I think your story about trusting Thanika not to kill you when you provoked him is as full of hogwash as that nonsense about staying cool and calm so he wouldn't get excited and shoot you?" She gave a harsh, derisive bark of laughter. "You're only making things worse, you know. You're still lying to me. I know you too well to believe you'd sit back and let someone shoot you."
Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do, Pat.
*And if she doesn't, whose fault is that? What can she make out of half-truths, except lies?*
*Keep out of this, Kheersa.*
*Tell her, Bin Treyma.*
*No!*
*You were willing to trust Thanika not to shoot you. Are you less willing to trust Pat to believe the truth, if you tell it?*
*Yes. For she can destroy more than just my life.*
*Tell her!*
Pushing the voice away, Francis looked at the human who was his business partner and erstwhile friend. If he couldn't convince her, it was all over. The Inn. The place he had earned, and was still earning, in the community. The sense of home, and friends, and acceptance, despite his past. It would all be gone and he'd be on the road again, with nothing but his money and his painful memories to keep him company through the long and lonely miles.
He knew what that life was like and he didn't want it back again.
"Pat, what I did with Thanika was deliberate and calculated, but it wasn't something I'd ever have thought of by myself. I was only doing to him what someone else once did to me -- and she had far less reason to trust me than I had to trust Thanika."
The remembered sight of Kheersa's dead body sent a wave of guilt washing over him. For a moment, he thought he might throw up. Licking his lips with a tongue gone suddenly as dry as dust, he forced himself to continue.
"I may have sounded calm and cold to you, but I was scared and bleeding inside."
Pat held up a hand. "Wait just a minute. Who's this 'someone else' you mentioned? This is the second time you've referred to something that I know nothing about. Maybe if I understood about that, I might understand better what went on between you and Thanika."
"You don't want to know," he replied quickly. Pat frowned and turned her head away.
*Tell her, Treyrna. Until you can face your past, you will not be able to face your future. *
With a shudder of aversion, Francis conceded the argument to the voice in his head. "All right, if there's a chance it may make you believe me --" he began hesitantly.
Pat nodded. He thought he could see a flicker of interest in those jet-black eyes that hadn't been there before.
"You've asked me at least once about how and why I finally dissociated myself from the Overseers, after working for them on earth. It's a long story. Will you listen to it?"
"Does it have anything to do with what we've been talking about?"
"Yes.
"Then I'll listen."
"Good." Now that he'd decided, he didn't know how to start. He rose to his feet, heading for the kitchen. "Want a refill on your coffee?"
"All right."
Returning with the coffeepot, he poured the dark liquid into her cup, then refilled his own, taking his time fiddling with the sugar bowl on the side table.
You're stalling, Francis. Get it over with, he told himself as he resumed his seat. You gambled your life on Thanika's sense of ethics. Now gamble everything on Pat's sense of truth.
"Bear with me if I kind of wander around, okay? This isn't easy."
Pat nodded.
"This is how it was," he began.
After surviving the crash and those first difficult days in the desert, I spent most of the quarantine period studying earth and its cultures, trying to make sense of where we had ended up. Although I had a few vague ideas about starting a new life, the other newcomers in quarantine with me took one look at my wrist and avoided me like the plague. One of the braver ones even tried to kill me. Obviously, the attempt wasn't successful, but it was enough to convince me that no one would let me forget what I was.
Then, after we were released, Piedra Frelani wasted no time getting in touch with me.
["Does Piedra have a human name?" Pat interrupted curiously.
Francis smiled. "Oh yes. The name they gave her is Glory Hallelujah. But never call her that to her face, if you want to live."
Much to his surprise, Pat chuckled.
"Now," Francis went on, "as I was saying --"]
Piedra promised money and power if I'd stick with her. I saw my alternatives very clearly in the eyes of every Tenctonese who caught sight of my tattoo, so I agreed to her proposal.
There isn't much to tell about those years that you don't already know. I was essentially a high-priced whore, catalyzing children for other Overseers or for any Tenctonese couples who were willing to pay the price Piedra demanded.
Why would anyone want me? Lots of reasons. The Order would have nothing to do with Overseers. Besides, the Overseers preferred one of their own, so to speak. Sometimes they didn't even want to have children, but had some fairly perverse ideas for things they thought might be fun. Piedra welcomed those kinds of assignments, since they paid more.
Other than the Overseers, there were also some newcomers who didn't want to bother with the ethics and ceremonies that went along with dealing with the Order. There were other binnaums available for this purpose, of course, but none of them were Kleezantsun#. I'm ashamed to say some of my clients found it amusing to hire one of the Overseers to be binnaum to their children. I never have been able to figure out why.
Anyway, the work was mostly easy, the percentage I got allowed me to live in luxury, and I didn't have to deal with the hatred of ordinary Tenctonese. In fact, I didn't have to deal with them at all.
I knew very well that I was only a sideline to Piedra and her friends. In a little over a year, they had a number of illicit businesses running and had integrated themselves very smoothly into the existing criminal underground. Since Piedra was fond of bragging, she told me all about it. Some of her activities made me uneasy, but I never had the courage to say anything. Piedra made it very clear that I wouldn't live very long if I tried to quit her organization.
Then came the winter day a year and a half after the Ship landed, when I was summoned into her office unexpectedly.
She sat behind her desk, leaning forward with her chin propped on one hand, studying me intently as I took a seat. I didn't like the look in her eyes.
I've never described her, have I? I suppose you humans wouldn't consider her pretty. She was tall and what you would call heavyset, but her face had a sharpness to it that was set off perfectly by the jagged speckles that covered her head in an intricate and intriguing pattern, so different from the usual more regular pattern found on most of our females. She had an athlete's grace and strength, combined with an overall bearing that told you she didn't take anything from anybody.
Tapping a carefully manicured fingernail on a thick file folder, she smiled at me. *Got a little job for you, Treyma.*
Something in her voice put me on the alert. *Oh? What is it?* I asked noncommittally.
*Not the usual thing at all.* She paused for effect. *Have you ever heard of a Tenctonese novelist named Kheersa Pentaleri?*
*Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. I believe I read her book. It was an adventure set on Tencton. Quite interesting, actually. So realistic I could almost believe she'd really been there.*
*She had been there. Kheersa Pentaleri is one of the Elders. She was born on Tencton.*
*So what's the problem?*
*We've been keeping a close eye on her ever since we found out that she's been doing a lot of research for her next book.* Piedra tapped the file folder lying in the center of her desk. *Dangerous research.*
*So some old woman writes another novel about the good old days on the home world. So what? *
*Her next novel isn't going to be about Tencton. It's going to be about the Overseers and what they're doing on earth right now.*
I didn't bother to ask Piedra how she had found out about this. She had her sources, and they were remarkably reliable.
*It's only fiction,* I objected. *It can't hurt us.*
*Come now, let's not be naive. If the humans read it, they may believe it. They may start taking us seriously and hunting for us.*
I didn't like the way the conversation was going. I knew Piedra too well to think she had called me in to talk about her taste in reading material. *The humans write lots of novels about their own criminal underground. That famous one -- what was it called? "The Godmother"? -- never did any harm to the Mafia.*
Piedra dismissed my objection with a wave of her hand, the black tattoo on her wrist set off brilliantly by the tight-fitting diamond bracelets she wore on either side of it.
*We Overseers survive by staying out of sight. A lot of Tenctonese don't remember clearly that we exist, and those who do would rather pretend we didn't. We can't afford this sort of publicity.* The corners of Piedra's lips quirked upwards into the slight smile that always meant trouble. *I want you to kill this bothersome old woman.*
I just barely managed to choke back a laugh as I realized she was serious.
*I'm not a hitman,* I protested. *Send someone else.*
*No, Treyma, I think not. You've had it too easy lately. You've gotten soft. I want you to do this to prove you're still one of us. Also, it would raise the price of your services, if word gets out that you disposed of this -- nuisance -- for us.*
It would also give Piedra one more thing to hold over my head if I were ever seriously tempted to leave her employ, but I knew better than to say that. Most of what I had done thus far on earth hadn't been strictly illegal, but murder would be another matter entirely.
Yes, Pat, I had occasionally been involved in the death of people while we were on the Ship. I would be lying if I denied that, and I promised not to lie. But, without wanting to exonerate the Kleezantsun# in any way, I must point out that we weren't there primarily to exterminate our cargo. That wouldn't have been, as you humans put it, cost effective. The ones who died were usually troublemakers, killed to set an example to the others.
But back to what I was saying.
Piedra held out the file folder. *Here's all the information I have on Kheersa Pentaleri. Read it. Then come back when you can tell me the file is closed for good.*
*But --* I started to object.
*What's the matter? Afraid of an old woman?* Her mocking smile faded into something far more sinister. *Do it, Treyma,* she said coldly.
I left without any further argument.
What Piedra hadn't told me was that she would send one of her regular hitmen to follow me. If I failed to carry out my orders, he was to eliminate me along with the annoying novelist. I only discovered that later on.
I studied the file. With the active phase of her research concluded, the Elder had retired to a small cabin in the Sierra Nevada Mountains east of Sacramento to do the actual writing of the novel. Her granddaughter, Liett Pentaleri, was living there with her. I remember hoping I wouldn't have to kill the granddaughter also. It wasn't that I particularly objected to killing someone, only that it would mean the waste of an extra life.
I got myself a rifle and a Casull pistol -- What? You've never heard of a Casull pistol? It's a high-powered, double-barreled handgun meant for use against newcomers.
Thus equipped, I started out up the coast and then eastward into the mountains. I knew little about the wilderness and even less about driving in snow and ice, but I managed all right until the very end of the trip. It was late afternoon and I had almost reached the turnoff to where Kheersa's cabin was supposed to be when my car skidded off the road into a snow-filled ditch. Unable to get it out, I left the car and started hiking on down the road.
It was snowing rather hard by then, but I thought little of it.
As I trudged along, I heard women's voices somewhere off to the side of the road, so I went over to see what was going on.
At the bottom of a steep slope, two figures were loading wood onto a sled. On the off chance one of them might be my intended victim, I looked through the telescopic sight of my rifle.
One was a young woman. No good. I moved on to the next. The other was indeed Kheersa Pentaleri, easily recognizable from the photos in her file despite the heavy winter clothes she wore.
Congratulating myself on my luck, I was about to pull the trigger when one foot slipped sideways on a patch of ice. At almost the same moment, a bullet slammed into my right shoulder. The impact knocked me further off balance and I toppled over the edge of the ravine. I must have hit my head on something as I fell, because the next thing I remember, I was lying on a couch, my shoulder bandaged and my arm bound across my chest. The back of my head hurt, but not nearly as badly as my shoulder did.
At the time, of course, I had no idea who had shot me. The other night, Thanika claimed that it was his doing, and it may well have been. I have no reason to doubt his word.
I tried to get up, but didn't make it. That drew the attention of the old woman, who sat in a rocking chair with her feet propped up in front of a woodstove. Her face was wrinkled and lined with age, but her dark eyes were bright and alert. The pattern of small but intricately shaped speckles on her head gave her a youthful appearance despite her years.
*Ah, our visitor is awake. How do you feel?* she asked.
I ignored her question. *Where's my rifle, and my pistol?*
*I don't know anything about a rifle. If you had one, you must have dropped it when you fell. The handgun is hanging over by the door in its shoulder holster.*
*Give it to me,* I demanded uneasily.
*We do not use weapons in this house.*
*Give it to me or I'll get up and get it myself. Whoever shot me is still out there, and he still has his gun.*
She only shrugged. *If you think you can stand up on your own, go get it. But I strongly advise you not to. If you move around too much, your shoulder will start bleeding again. That's a messy wound and you've lost enough blood for one day as it is.*
I glanced down at the bandages. Kheersa spoke the truth. The dressing was already tinged pink with blood. I reached over to touch it, but even that slight amount of pressure was intolerable. It couldn't be a simple gunshot wound. Bones had to be broken, most likely my shoulder blade. I tried to move my arm slightly. The resulting pain made me revise my estimate: not just broken, shattered.
*Well, then, why haven't you gotten me to a hospital, if I'm in such bad shape?* I snapped irritably. I didn't like her manner and the pain was already getting to me.
*There's a blizzard raging outside, in case you hadn't noticed. Not even my jeep could get us anywhere in that. The phone lines are down, so we can't call for help. We'll be lucky if we don't lose the electricity before the storm is over. I'm afraid you're stuck here until it lets up.*
She settled back into her rocking chair, studying me and not looking at all happy at what she saw. *Mind telling me what you were doing out here all by yourself? Didn't you hear the storm warnings?*
*I didn't have the radio on. I was going to a hunting lodge, but lost my way,* I improvised. *The car got stuck. I heard your voices and hoped you might be able to help. I was about to holler down to you when someone shot me.*
*You always go hunting just before a blizzard? And you always carry a Casull pistol with you?* she asked skeptically. I didn't know how to answer that. *Perhaps you were shot by another hunter, eh?*
That sounded good. *Maybe.*
*If so, why was your first thought for your weapons? And why do you believe you're still in danger from that hunter, Bin Treyma?*
I nearly fell off the couch in surprise. She knew who I was. This was not good at all. It was only then that I realized she had not bothered to introduce herself. Was she assuming I already knew who she was also?
Kheersa smiled at my evident consternation. *Oh yes, I recognize you. I saw you many times on the Ship. Do you think I missed your notorious presence while I was researching the surviving Overseers here on earth?*
I was saved from having to reply by her granddaughter's entrance into the room, carrying two soup mugs. With a speckle pattern very similar to Kheersa's and exquisitely shaped ear canals, Liett Pentaleri was a strikingly beautiful young woman.
After serving the Elder, she set the remaining mug on the coffee table in front of the couch. She only glanced at me once, but if looks could kill, I'd have been dead.
*Can you manage that,* Kheersa asked me, *or do you need help?*
I regarded the mug without enthusiasm. Judging by the smell, it was a mixture of beef blood and orange juice, not my favorite beverage. However, I had obviously lost a lot of blood and could use the liquid.
*If you would prop me up a little higher and give me the mug, I can handle it.* Actually, I didn't want to move even that much, but I'd be damned if I'd ask my potential victim to feed me.
*Liett, get another pillow and give our guest a hand, would you?* Kheersa requested.
The granddaughter looked at me again, her blue eyes as cold as the snow outside. *I'd sooner stick my hand in the ocean as lay a finger on him,* she stated.
*Child, he's badly hurt. Where is your compassion?*
*There is no compassion for the Kleezantsun#.* Liett turned away, going over to the woodstove and putting a fresh log into the firebox.
Kheersa sighed. She rose stiffly from her chair, helped me pull myself more nearly into an upright position and tucked another pillow behind my back before placing the mug in my uninjured left hand.
*Liett, where are the pills I asked you to bring?* Kheersa asked.
*Why waste our few medicines on him?* she replied scornfully, her back still turned to us.
*Liett --* the Elder warned.
The girl got up and came over to me, taking two small bottles out of a pocket in her sweatshirt jacket. Grudgingly, she offered me a capsule from each bottle. *This is a broad-spectrum antibiotic,* she said, indicating the larger of the two, *and this is a painkiller.* Shaking the second bottle to produce a rather anemic rattling sound, she announced smugly, *We haven't got many of these left.*
Ignoring her scorn, I popped both pills in my mouth and gulped them down.
Liett still stood watching me. *If I'd had my way, I'd have shot you with your own gun the minute grandmother told me who you were. If she weren't here, you'd be dead, Overseer.* Eyes flashing, she stalked back to the woodstove, extending her hands towards the warmth.
Once again settled in her rocking chair near the stove, Kheersa harrumphed loudly. *You must forgive my granddaughter, Bin Treyma. She saw her parents killed by the Overseers, so she bears little love for you.*
That was the understatement of the year, I decided. Since one of Liett's murdered parents had to have been Kheersa's child, I wondered why the old woman hadn't killed me herself.
Things were quiet for a while as I sipped liquid from the mug. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire in the stove, the swish of snow falling outside, and the moaning of the wind. Then Liett turned away from the stove, announcing abruptly, *I don't want to be in the presence of this creature any longer. I'm going to bed.*
So saying, she strode out of the room through a wooden door which must have led to her bedroom. There was one more door along the same wall, so I assumed that was Kheersa's.
Sighing, the old woman picked up the two mugs and took them out into the kitchen. I heard water running.
When she came back into the room, she poked up the fire and added several chunks of wood. She stood up and stretched. *It's time I retired also, Bin Treyma. Spending the day hauling wood makes one remarkably tired, at my age.* She took a couple of woolen blankets from a chest by the wall, shaking them out before bringing them over and covering me carefully. *I hope these will keep you warm enough. The bathroom is off the kitchen. Would you like help getting there before I go to bed?*
I shook my head. *I'll manage, if I find it necessary.*
*Very well. I left a light on in the kitchen for you.*
With no further ado, she turned off the rest of the lights and I was left alone. For a few minutes, I heard rustling movements and footsteps in the bedroom, then even that stopped.
I almost laughed at my situation. Here I was, not twenty paces from where my pistol hung on the wall, with my potential victim asleep and at my mercy. The old fool had tucked me in as if I were as harmless as a child, quite oblivious to her danger. They couldn't have made it easier for me if they'd tried. All I had to do was stand up and get my gun, and this distasteful job could be over and done with.
A sudden gust of wind shook the door and pelted the window with frozen snow. Okay, so maybe there was a bit of a problem after all. If I killed the two women, I'd be trapped here. With my right arm useless, I couldn't drive their jeep in this kind of weather, even if the snow stopped right now, which it seemed to have no intention of doing.
I considered killing Kheersa but keeping the girl alive until she could drive me to safety, but I wasn't sure I could control Liett for the length of time that might be necessary. I knew my wounded shoulder made me vulnerable. If I fanned her hatred into flame, I might not be able to avoid being consumed in the resulting blaze.
I'd just have to see what tomorrow would bring. I tried to settle myself down comfortably on the couch, but sleep wouldn't come. My shoulder hurt too much despite the pain pill.
I managed to doze off now and then, but it was a long night. Sometime during the night, the light in the kitchen blinked a few times and went out. I figured that was it for the electricity. That didn't make me rest any easier.
By the following morning, the storm was worse and so was I. I could barely think straight for the agony in my shoulder. Even so, when Kheersa offered me a cup of coffee from the kettle steaming on the stove and a pill from each of the bottles, I took the painkiller with misgiving, all too aware of how few were left.
The hot liquid revived me a bit. With the woodstove blazing away, the room was comfortably warm despite the freezing temperatures outside.
Liett appeared from her bedroom. Pulling on boots and a heavy parka, she opened the door on snow at least four feet deep and plunged out into the howling storm. Shortly she reappeared with an armload of wood, which she laid out to dry in the warmth surrounding the stove. By the time she had made two more trips, she was covered with snow from head to foot.
*That should hold us for a while,* Kheersa remarked cheerfully as the girl peeled off her outerwear and hung everything by the door to drip.
*There's plenty more in the shed.*
*Good. Heat will be no problem, then. And we've got plenty of candles for light.*
Kheersa settled back in her rocking chair. Pulling a bundle of multi-colored fabric out of a bag that lay next to her on the floor, she began performing some strange manipulations with two long, pointed wands. Liett sat in front of a window in the far corner of the room and began to read.
*So, what do we do now?* I asked testily.
*I don't know about you, but I plan to get some knitting done,* the old woman replied equably.
Trying to keep my mind off my pain, I watched her work on the fabric.
*Seems to me it would be easier to just buy a blanket,* I said at last, bored.
*Oh, certainly. But not as enjoyable.*
*Foolish waste of time,* I muttered.
The Elder just smiled. *You have something better to do? If the electricity were on, I could work on my latest novel. I have a computer in my bedroom. Spending time with you has given me some ideas. Perhaps I'll invent a character based on you, Bin Treyma. Would you like that?*
*Celine! No!*
That's all Piedra would have to see. Then I remembered Piedra would never read such a book because Kheersa wasn't going to live long enough to write it.
The old woman lowered her knitting. *Why not? I think you'd make an interesting character. I'm just not quite sure how I should present someone like you.*
It was obvious she was teasing me now. *Just make me the bad guy and be done with it,* I replied angrily. *That's what everyone always does with Overseers, isn't it?*
*Well, I don't know. I rather think there might be more to it than that but --*
Kheersa's musings were interrupted by the crash of a chair to the floor as Liett bolted to her feet. She squatted down in front of me, her blue eyes blazing.
*Why?* she demanded. *Why did you join them? How could anyone, much less a binnaum, choose such a thing?*
I started to shrug, then thought better of it when I realized what that would do to my shoulder. What could this girl possibly know of such things? *I had the chance to have power, and I took it. Most others didn't have that choice. I did. It's as simple as that.*
Of course, it wasn't. But I wasn't going to tell her that.
She looked as if she were debating spitting on me, if she knew of that human gesture of contempt. I didn't particularly care. What was she to me anyway? Just one more of the cargo. It didn't matter what one of them thought of me.
She just squatted there, glaring. Combined with the situation and my pain, her attitude was getting on my nerves. I decided to see if I could put a hole in her self-righteous hatred.
*Look, did you like being a slave?* I asked her.
*That's a stupid question, even for one of you. Of course I didn't. What's that got to do with anything? *
*If you had to choose between being a master or being a slave, which would you choose?*
She didn't think about it for very long, but I saw her eyes slide sideways to her grandmother before she answered defiantly, *I've had enough of being a slave.*
*In that case, you'd have made a good Overseer,* I replied offhandedly.
I knew my remark would anger her, but I didn't think it would anger her as much as it did. Before I had a chance to react, she slammed her fist into my bandaged shoulder.
I screamed, convulsing with agony and clutching at my arm with my good hand. In all the years since my early experience with Piedra, I hadn't been hurt more than superficially. I wasn't used to this. It brought back emotions I thought I had forgotten.
I looked up, anticipating another blow. Kheersa held Liett's wrist.
*Let me go! I'm sick of being a helpless victim,* the girl rasped. *This time I have the upper hand and I'm going to use it.*
*Remember the Teachings, child,* Kheersa said firmly. *Weakness in and of itself is no virtue, but strength wrongly used is a vice. Strength controlled and properly used is the positive good.*
*I don't care about that! I won't be a slave any longer, no matter what you say!*
*If the only possible choice is to be a master or to be a slave, the right thing is to be a slave,* the Elder pointed out. *But neither is necessary. We have other choices now.*
*My choice is to destroy him! Why do you defend this abomination?*
*I don't. I only seek to prevent you from becoming the same sort of abomination you claim to despise.*
Liett finally stopped trying to pull free from the old woman's grip and relaxed. When Kheersa let her go, she glared at me viciously and then strode over to the door.
*I'm going outside to check my snares. Perhaps there'll be some fresh meat for us.*
*In this blizzard?*
Kheersa's objection didn't stop the girl from pulling on her boots. *If I stay in here any longer with him, I'll explode.*
The old woman got up from her chair and walked over to her grandchild. Touching her fingers to the angry young woman's temple, she said softly, *Go then, my dear. But be careful you don't get lost.*
Liett hesitated a moment, then reached out her own hand in return. *Don't worry. I won't go too far.*
After Liett had pulled the door closed behind her, Kheersa returned to her rocking chair. Shaking her head, she took up her knitting once again. With all her attention apparently on the clicking needles, she asked me casually, *So, Bin Treyma, why haven't you tried to kill me yet?*
*What are you talking about, old woman?*
*I may be old, but I'm not stupid. Did you really think I believed that story about your going hunting? For one thing, you brought the wrong weapons for shooting game. No one else who lives out here could be of the slightest interest to Piedra Frelani. She must have found out about my latest literary effort and sent you after me. Perhaps I should be thankful she chose such an inept assassin.*
*Inept?* I said stupidly while trying to assimilate the idea that she knew about Piedra's involvement in this.
Kheersa laughed. *Well, what else would you call it? I'm still alive, aren't I?*
This was more than I intended to take.
*Not for long,* I snarled, pushing myself up from the couch and lurching over to where my pistol hung on the wall. By the time I pulled it out of the shoulder holster, my head was spinning and my knees threatened to collapse. I staggered back and almost fell onto the sofa, the broken bones grating painfully in my shoulder with each movement.
*I'll show you,* I gasped, trying to aim the gun with my left hand. It took several seconds for me to recover sufficient strength to keep the muzzle steady enough to have even a chance of hitting her.
Kheersa shook her head. In the tone she might have used on a naughty child, she said, *Would you shoot an old woman, Bin Treyma? Have you learned nothing since coming to this new world?*
This was not the sort of reaction I expected. She was supposed to be terrified. Any other Tenctonese would have been. I was Kleezantsun#, wasn't I? What was going on here?
*I could kill you,* I said in my most menacing tone.
*Well, perhaps you could. But will you?* The dark eyes locked on mine. *I say you will not, Bin Treyma. I say there is more in your hearts than even you may know. I say you will not kill someone in cold blood.*
Something deep within me flinched from that relentless gaze, but I could not look away.
*Do you want to die?* I demanded, trying to deny what she had said.
*No, of course not. But neither do I fear death overmuch.*
She stood up and walked closer to me, until she was almost touching the muzzle of my pistol. At first I thought she intended to take the gun away, but she made no move to do so. It wouldn't have been difficult. I was so weak from the pain that it would have been an effort just to pull the trigger.
*Look,* she said, *I'm making it easier for you. Even in your condition, you can't possibly miss at this distance.*
A part of me said to do it, but another part hesitated. Where was the honor in slaughtering a helpless person?
But where had that idea come from? I hadn't thought of honor for many years now. That concept had died when Piedra had broken my spirit on that long ago day on the Ship. I had no honor, only pride.
And yet my finger stubbornly refused to tighten on the trigger, and the gun shook uncontrollably in my trembling hand. I couldn't blame the pain, not really. There was something else stopping me.
I gave up and lowered the gun into my lap, telling myself it was just the agony in my shoulder that had kept me from firing, nothing more.
Kheersa sat down on the coffee table so her face was level with mine. *Can't quite bring yourself to do it? * she asked. If her face had echoed the gentle mocking of her words, I might yet have killed her then and there. *Piedra will not be pleased.*
*Piedra can go to --* I stopped myself abruptly. Piedra was my friend and my mentor -- wasn't she?
*What's the matter? Why didn't you shoot me?* Kheersa persisted.
*I -- thought better of it,* I replied, trying for assurance. *You and Liett are the only ones who can get me to the hospital. It would be suicide for me to kill you.*
*Is that the only reason? Really?*
*Yes,* I insisted fiercely.
What was she trying to do to me? Of course it was the only reason. Why else would I have let her live? And yet, the thought of killing her still made me uneasy.
Kheersa sighed heavily. *Do you owe that much to Piedra Frelani? Aren't you tired of it, Treyma? Wouldn't you like to get away from her and live your own life?*
*It's too late for that. I couldn't undo the past, even if I wanted to.* What was I saying? The words had come unbidden to my lips, drawn by the tenderness in the Elder's eyes.
*The past is over,* she stated firmly. *What are you now, today? And what do you wish to be tomorrow? That is all that truly matters.*
*Nice words, but I can't quit. If I even tried, they'd kill me. I have no choice.*
That at least was true. Buy why did it sound like such a lame excuse?
*There's always a choice. Sometimes it means death, but there's always a choice.*
I shook my head. *No. I decided a long time ago, and there's no way I can undo that.* I gestured impatiently at the tattoo on my right wrist, just visible at the edge of the bandage that held my arm to my chest. *I'll always be one of the Kleezantsun#.*
*Always is not a word to be used by mortals, Bin Treyma. You are what you choose to be, not what you have been. The tattoo on your wrist isn't important. Your soul is what matters.*
Then she did something totally unexpected. She reached out one hand, fingers curled under, and touched my temple.
I recoiled automatically, but I was just a bit too slow to entirely escape the sense of concern and caring Kheersa wished to impart to me.
No one had touched me like that since -- since when? Before Piedra, surely. Yes, before Piedra. My teacher, Bin Dalvi, the last time I had seen him before the Overseers came and took me away. I shivered, not wanting to remember that.
Kheersa rose stiffly to her feet. *Just think about what I said. All right?*
As it turned out, I had little time to think about anything. By nightfall, I was delirious with fever, barely conscious of anything except how badly my shoulder hurt. I can't remember anything much about the next day and night at all, so I must have been pretty well out of it.
The next thing I recall is waking up with a cold wind on my face and sunlight pouring in through the open door of the cabin. Wrapped in a heavy coat, Kheersa was busily stomping a snowdrift down to a manageable height. I heard a car engine running somewhere outside.
Weak and woozy, I used the back of the couch to pull myself up into a sitting, position. No sooner had I done so than the world began spinning around. I leaned my head forward and waited for the dizziness to pass.
*Oh, good,* Kheersa remarked as she came inside. *You're awake. That will make it easier for us to get you out into the jeep.*
*Jeep?*
*Yes. The storm stopped yesterday and the snow's melting. We're going to try to get you to the hospital before that shoulder gets even worse than it is.*
I didn't need her words to tell me my wound was infected. I could tell from the throbbing tightness overlying the now familiar pain that my arm was badly swollen. Although I didn't look forward to the long ride bouncing over a snowy road, I knew I needed medical care and I needed it soon, if I was to keep my arm, not to mention my life.
*Do you think you can walk?* Kheersa asked.
I looked at the endless distance separating me from the door. *Not without help.*
*I'll call Liett. She's warming up the car.*
When the girl came into the room, she said nothing, but she bent to fit under my left shoulder and helped me hoist myself to my feet. Fighting waves of dizziness, I shuffled clumsily across the room, while Kheersa gathered the blankets off the couch and draped them over my shoulders.
I halted where my pistol hung on a peg next to the door. With most of my weight on Liett and no way to let go without falling, I was forced to appeal to Kheersa to give me the gun.
The Elder frowned. *You have no need for such a weapon,* she objected.
*Please, Kheersa. I have enemies and one never knows what may happen. Someone put this bullet through my shoulder. That someone may still be out there.*
*All through the blizzard?* she asked skeptically.
I lifted my head until our eyes met. *I'm not planning to harm you or Liett, if that's what you're worried about,* I said in the most sincere tone I could manage. It might or might not have been a lie, but I wanted it to sound true. All I really cared about at that point was getting to a hospital.
*You're not going to believe him, are you, grandmother?* the girl objected.
*Yes, I think I am.*
Kheersa took down the gun in its shoulder holster. *I'll carry this out to the car. You two get a move on.*
I managed to hobble through the wet snow and into the back seat of the car without collapsing. Liett saw her grandmother safely ensconced in the passenger's seat before climbing into the driver's side herself.
I lay down across the seat as comfortably as I could, using the blankets to prop myself into a semi-upright position. Without my having to ask, Kheersa handed the pistol back to me. With my good arm, I cradled it against my chest, holster and all. It didn't make me feel a whole lot better, but it sure made me feel less helpless. I lay back, trying to relax while fighting off the weariness that was doing its best to claim me.
We had gone perhaps a mile when the car slowed and I heard Liett's voice, sounding as if it came from far away. *Look at that truck! I wonder if there's someone in it?*
*I don't see anyone.*
*Do you think we should stop? We might getstuck.*
The conversation finally penetrated my dull mind. A truck? Way out here? And they didn't recognize it as belonging to one of their few neighbors?
Suddenly alert, I sat up, leaning between the two front seats to see what was going on. The glare of the sun on white fields of snow momentarily blinded me, but when my eyes adjusted, I could make out a blue Toyota truck, its front end buried in the drift at the bottom of a ditch next to the road. It was a fair distance ahead of us, but Liett had begun braking cautiously, allowing herself plenty of time to come to a gradual stop.
We were still at least I00 yards away when a Tenctonese man stepped into sight around the tailgate of the truck. I recognized him instantly and my blood ran cold.
*Liett, don't stop!!* I yelled.
The man waved one arm as if to flag us down. Torn between my frantic shout and her previous intention, the girl hesitated.
*I know him! He's a killer, a hired assassin! Keep driving!*
Indeed, I knew him all too well. He was Ament Sisson, Piedra's favorite hitman. There was no possible reason for his presence here but one.
Liett stepped on the gas. For a hearts-stopping moment, the wheels spun on the slippery snow without catching. Then the car began gathering speed.
Seeing this, Sisson grabbed up an AK47 automatic rifle that had been concealed behind the rear of the truck and stepped out into the middle of the road. I fumbled desperately for my pistol, but I wasn't used to using my left hand. Time seemed to slow down as the barrel of his weapon lifted and tracked our oncoming vehicle. For only the briefest of instants, his eyes met mine and I knew Kheersa was not his only target. I also knew I was about to die.
Then our car slid sideways, fishtailing wildly. A spray of bullets from the automatic rifle shattered nothing but the snow-covered morning silence.
As Liett regained control of the car, I raised my gun, preparing to fire through the front window. Sisson still stood in the middle of the road, his AK47 once again bearing on us.
*Run him down!* I screamed to Liett, just as Kheersa turned and saw the gun I held. Her hand moved as if to stop me. As she turned, she leaned in towards Liett, blocking my shot.
I heard the stutter of the semi-automatic and saw Kheersa jerk as the bullets hit her. The windshield of the car shattered and collapsed. Then we were on top of our assailant.
At the last moment, the car swerved, skidding past Sisson and missing him by inches. I spun around, firing through the back window. With little chance to aim, I just kept shooting until the gun was empty, hoping to prevent him from firing at us again. I have no idea if any of my bullets found its target.
Liett wanted to stop and attend her grandmother as soon as we had rounded the next curve, but, not knowing if Sisson would be coming after us, I told her to keep going. Blood ran down the girl's cheek from a cut, but she appeared otherwise unhurt.
I pulled the lever that reclined Kheersa's seat. Tearing her coat open, I tried vainly to stop the bleeding by folding up her scarf and pressing it tightly over her wounds. I knew there was little hope, this far from a hospital. One of the bullets had hit her left heart, puncturing the lung at the same time. She was losing too much blood.
I felt the bones grating in my shoulder with all this activity, but the emergency situation kept the full extent of the pain from registering. I didn't want this woman to die. She had shaken the foundations of my life with her words. I had to save her.
But I knew that was impossible. And besides, I was the one who was supposed to kill her, wasn't I?
It was only then that it dawned on me that Sisson wouldn't have been here unless Piedra had sent him. She hadn't trusted me to do the job. Did he have orders to kill me if I didn't do it? Or had I been intended as a victim all along? Someone had certainly shot me before I had even attempted to kill Kheersa. I saw no reason to think it hadn't been Sisson. And if it was Sisson's doing, the orders had to have come from Piedra.
Piedra had betrayed me. Well, was that so surprising? What loyalty did she have except to herself? But why would she want me dead? I'd had no intention of disobeying her orders. I still intended to kill Kheersa the moment I reached safety, didn't I?
Or did I?
Feeling the old woman's lifeblood soaking through the scarf and running down over my fingers, I remembered another time and another place. Dalvi's blood had welled up around the double-bladed knife I had plunged into his hearts. Then, I had told myself I felt nothing for him, for love was a weakness that I had banished from my mind in the attempt to become one of the Chosen.
Now, after all those years, I was forced to admit that love doesn't die so easily, and truth, although fiercely repressed and perverted, still lives on.
I finally realized I was not about to kill Kheersa Pentaleri, nor had I had any intention of doing so for some time now. But it was too late. Someone else had done the job for me.
Liett sobbed steadily as she sped down theroad at a reckless speed.
*Slow down, child,* Kheersa whispered.*You'll kill us all.*
The car slowed, but Liett's sobs didn't.
The old woman's hand came up to grasp my blood-soaked wrist. *It's all right,* she said. *I've been prepared to die ever since we found you in the snow, but I'm glad it wasn't your doing. I was sure I saw something in you besides what you seem to think you are.*
I closed my eyes briefly. *Kheersa, you were right. Nothing is for always. I can't get rid of the tattoo, but I don't have to be Kleezantsun# unless I choose to be. I choose not to be,* I whispered to the dying woman.
Weakly, she lifted her hand from my wrist and brought it up to my temple. This time I didn't pull away, although I had to make a deliberate effort not to.
Much to my surprise, the thought behind that touch was not merely caring, but a sense of gratitude, as if she had been a bit uncertain about some long-held values, but had just been proven right after all.
*You won't get rid of me this easily, Bin Treyma,* she whispered faintly. *I'll be with you until you don't need me anymore.*
Then her hand fell to her side and her breath went out of her in a long sigh. Beneath my hand, her hearts stopped pumping.
*Grandmother --?* Liett asked fearfully.*
*She's dead,* I forced myself to reply. The blackness I'd been holding at bay finally claimed me and I collapsed on the back seat, unconscious for the rest of that wild ride.
[Francis lapsed into silence, staring at the broken pieces of a shattered coffee mug clutched in his hand. When had he done that?
Depositing the ceramic shards on the table beside him, he blotted absently at the trickle of blood running from his palm with a paper napkin.
"What happened next?" Pat prompted.
"Huh?' he replied numbly.
"What did you do after that?"
"It's not important."
"I want to know how you got from there to here," she insisted stubbornly.
"Very well." Francis shrugged and then went on with his tale.]
Later on I learned that Liett had taken me to a hospital in Sacramento, where they had done their best to stabilize me. Lacking facilities for treating newcomers, they sent me on to a hospital in Los Angeles, where the doctors put me together again as best they could. They originally thought I'd never use my right arm again, it was that bad. I managed to prove them wrong.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. When I came to in the recovery room, I had no way of knowing all this. I had barely gotten my wits together enough to be transferred into a regular room when two humans and a newcomer in a police uniform came to talk to me.
The newcomer cop was stationed by the door as a guard, while the two detectives showed me their badges and began asking questions.
Even groggy as I was, I knew I wasn't under arrest because they didn't read me my rights. They seemed only to want information about Kheersa's death, since they questioned me as if I were an important witness, not a criminal. I told them exactly how the Elder had been shot, except that I denied any knowledge of who the gunman had been. It seems both he and his truck had been long gone by the time the police went to investigate.
By the time they were satisfied on that point and had backed up to ask what I was doing at Kheersa's cabin in the first place, I decided I had nothing to lose by telling them I had only been out hunting, etcetera.
The unknown factor in all this was what Liett had already told them. They had to have gotten her statement by now, but I had no idea what she might have said. However, near the beginning of my narrative, one of the detectives nodded. Consulting a pad in his hand, he mumbled, "Uh-huh. Checks with what we've got so far."
I concluded from this that Liett, for some reason of her own, hadn't told them all she knew about me. Gaining confidence, I played my part of innocent bystander to the hilt.
Evidently satisfied, the detectives folded up their notebooks and headed for the door.
Instead of following the humans out, the newcomer cop stood staring silently at me for several seconds. With no choice but to notice him, I got the uncomfortable feeling that I had seen him somewhere before. But where? He somewhat resembled one of the slaves I recalled seeing briefly in the desert after the Ship crashed, but I couldn't be sure. I had stripped the tunic off a corpse in order to use it myself and someone had made a feeble attempt to stop me. It might have been him, but then again, it could easily have been someone else of similar appearance. I hadn't paid much attention at the time.
As he took a few steps closer to my bed, I was able to read his nametag. He leaned forward and said quietly, *I know who you are and I know what you are. And if I can dig up even a scrap of evidence against you, I'll nail your ass to the wall. You understand me?*
I managed to keep my voice steady as I replied, *I understand you very well, Officer Francisco.*
As he turned and stalked out of the room, I figured that this particular cop could do it, too. He was that intense.
If anyone looked hard enough and long enough, I knew they would find something to incriminate me. It was only a matter of time before I would be in prison, if Piedra didn't get to me first. Since the police hadn't found Sisson, I figured he had reported back to her by now. After the way I had blown my assignment, I didn't think she'd particularly want me alive, much less on trial, where I might be tempted to trade information about her for a chance at freedom.
I figured if Officer Francisco didn't get me, Piedra certainly would. Neither prospect appealed to me, but I couldn't even get out of bed, much less do anything to avoid my fate. The hospital would at least afford me a certain amount of protection from Piedra. I was as safe as it was possible to be, under the circumstances. I just wished I knew exactly what Liett had told the police, or what she might decide to tell them later on.
After several extremely anxious days of recovery, I signed myself out of the hospital against the doctors' advice and picked up the emergency cache of savings bonds and cash I always kept hidden in a safe deposit box that even Piedra didn't know about.
Figuring that both Piedra and the police would check the airports first when my disappearance was noticed, I headed for the Amtrak station, where I bought a ticket to New York City. There was a small Tenctonese community already established there, so it would be a reasonable place for me to be expected to go.
At a whistlestop somewhere in the Midwest, I got off the train, after having traded tickets with a fellow passenger who was amenable to taking the long way home in return for a generous down payment and the promise of more money awaiting him if he picked it up in person at the main Post Office in NYC, general delivery.
And before you ask, yes, I made sure the money was there as promised. I wanted him to have no reason to tell his story to anyone even remotely connected with the law.
Meanwhile, I bought a used and inconspicuous van and started travelling around the country, mostly disguised as a human. What happened after that, as you humans say, is history.
Francis fell silent, staring down at the crumpled napkin in his hand.
"So you used the same trick on Thanika that Kheersa used on you, eh?" Pat asked slowly.
"Yes. And it worked."
"Perhaps," she concluded grudgingly. "But I wouldn't recommend using it on someone without a conscience. Kheersa took a big chance, trusting you like that."
"Yes."
"And that's what started you running from your past?"
He nodded.
She sat abruptly forward in her chair, arms propped on her thighs. "What stopped you from running, Francis? Why did you decide to stay here?"
"I wanted to belong somewhere -- to be part of something," he replied hesitantly, groping for words. "I was needed here, for the community to grow. I thought I could -- begin -- to make up for all I'd done, although I know I can never undo it."
Pat nodded slightly. "I see. But you're willing to give that all up if I decide we should sell out, right?"
Francis had an awful feeling that he'd lost the gamble. He tried to tell himself that perhaps it was just as well. Reciting that story about Piedra had brought it all back to him again. It was dangerous to stay in one place too long. Maybe it was time to be moving on anyway.
He sighed. 'Yes, Pat. If you still think I betrayed your trust and want to be rid of me, I'll go along with you if you want to sell the Inn, even if you sell it to Larry."
She sat back in her chair, straightening her long legs and crossing one over the other. "Francis, why do I get the feeling that you're using the same technique on me that you used on Thanika?"
"No, I'm not. I mean --" He paused, suddenly surprised. Maybe she was right. He'd gambled the rest of his life on Pat's ability to recognize the truth when it was told to her, hadn't he? Was that so very different from gambling his life on Thanika's decision?
"Well, if I did," he admitted hastily, "I didn't plan it that way. I wasn't trying to maneuver you into anything. I mean --"
Much to his astonishment, Pat started to laugh. "Relax, boss. I know what you mean," she said at last. "But, like I said, don't ever try that on someone without a conscience, okay? You'd get yourself into a lot of trouble."
She'd called him "boss."
"Pat?"
A slow smile spread over the black woman's lips, then sparkled in her eyes. "Yeah, Francis. We're still partners." The smile faded a bit. "If you still want to be, that is."
Without giving him a chance to reply, she went on quickly, "I'm sorry for doubting you like that and I wouldn't blame you if you're pretty pissed. I guess I over-reacted. There was someone a long time ago -- " She cut herself off abruptly. "Well, that's not important. What matters now is the future, not the past."
Leaning forward, she extended one hand and asked softly, "Yes or no, boss? Still partners?"
"Partners," he replied. Silently reciting a quick prayer of thanks to the Infinitely Holy, Francis took her outstretched hand and shook it with enthusiasm.
