Chains Like Knives


Chains Like Knives




by



Ann Marie Olson





Story © 2000 Ann Marie Olson









Prologue


      Absently, Sevrin waved up the lights. I can't see this last line he glared at the old book, trying to discern the faded handwriting. 'And in the time of the Bear and the Eagle, there shall come a great change. Guard ye well the line of the travelers, for therein lie both the seeds of destruction and the wellspring of the future.' Standard mystic gibberish, Sevrin sighed.
      He hoped Arkay might know something about this particular prophet. It had been almost two weeks since his other father had come home, and he missed him tremendously. Intellectually, if not personally, Sevrin well understood his father's fascination with and infatuation with the silver haired Lord Fatima. From his own researches, he had discovered one of the things which often went into a great pairing, on top of selyn compatibility, was complementary personalities, not similar personalities.
      When he had brought this theory up to his mother, Karola, she had stammered and stuttered as if he had caught her indulging her passions with Avilan, again. For some odd reason, the same hiding places Sevrin preferred to escape his other siblings, his parents also preferred for their trysts. It was annoying to say the least.
      Considering the state of the book again, Sevrin decided to give up on it for the time being. Idly he waved up the lights and began cleaning up his room. It was already quite neat, and only required a few final touches. As Sevrin had never had any intimations at all about going through change over, he had told his parents very early on it would probably be best if he concentrated his energies on those things which would make him a satisfactory Sharm Lord. This meant fine needle work, musicianship, dance, of course fighting and also scholarship. Only the last truly was all that interesting to him personally, but he knew if he was at least competent at the others, he could well get by.
      "By all the feathers of Azrael's wings." Sevrin swore as the skein of thread from his latest embroidery project skittered under his bed as it bounced off his fingertips. Kneeling down to get it, he had to wave the lights up so he could even faintly see beneath the piece of furniture. Still muttering under his breath, he turned to the door.
      "Sevrin, the physical ... It's bright in here." Arkay strode into the small room, looking confused.
      He looked around into the deep shadows, blinking. "I can hardly ... " he said and then stopped in mid-sentence. "I believe there is a problem here." Sevrin fought to sound as calm as humanly possible, indulging in hysterics would not improve the situation at all.
      "If you would come here, m'lad." Arkay said softly.
      Good, he is not going to get overexcited. Sevrin was relieved. "Certainly, my father." he walked toward the voice. Now he could barely see a thing, despite the heat of the sunlight coming in the windows and the lights at near full brightness. The last thing he remembered seeing in his life, was Arkay's kind, sad gaze as his father leaned down to kiss his now sightless eyes.
      "Establishment may have stolen my vision, but it hasn't stolen my mind or my life." he railed against the wails and sobs of his other parents. Both Karola and Avilan had fallen into quite excessive fits of hysteria.
      "I'm afraid it has stolen your life." Nashen's voice was ringing with a sadness Sevrin couldn't quite understand. It was not the elaborate emotionalism of his blood parents and he turned toward the sound.
      "I don't understand." he blinked, still trying to clear the darkness from his eyes, despite the futility of the gesture. Arkay had examined him thoroughly immediately after it happened, and determined that as his selyn production began, it destroyed all his optic nerves past regeneration. Sevrin had, at the time, simply decided that he would then learn to get by without. There was nothing else he could have done.
      "No one who bears a major congenital deformity may continue among the living." Nashen said. "My sister was one such."
      "Then who shall take care of this mess, for I certainly do not care to do it myself." Despite all his resistance to rampant emotionalism, Sevrin could not quite bring himself to easily say the words, 'kill myself'. It was not particularly rational, he knew it, was annoyed by it, but still could not bring himself to do it. A sigh escaped his lips. "Although I would much rather sit down for this discussion than be left standing like a miscreant child, if it is not too much of a burden, my Lord Fatima?"
      "Certainly, sit." he said. "Would you like a hand?"
      "Yes, please." Sevrin ruthlessly quashed the tremor which tried to invade his voice with its cracking. "I'm afraid Arkay rather left me standing in the middle of a room where I have no idea the location of any of the furniture." At this his mother howled and he could not stop from cringing. There were tones to it now which grated on his nerves like hot glass. "Actually I think it were best if we took this to another room." he turned his face towards his blood parents. "Much as I love them dearly, their cries are painful to hear."
      "I should have thought of that, thank you for the reminder." a chair creaked as its occupant stood. Long slender fingers took his hand.
      "Where is Arkay?" he asked, trying to decide how he was to deal with this situation.
      "I am right here behind you, Sevrin." he said, fortunately before his hands landed on Sevrin's shoulders, or he might have seriously embarrassed himself by acting startled. "I too would like to be consulted on your future, if you do not feel to uncomfortable discussing it with me as well."
      "I only wish my blood parents were capable of rational speech." he heard his voice rasp with annoyance.
      "Be easy on them Sevrin." Nashen's voice cracked like a whip. He had never gotten sharp with any of the children of the Azov household before and Sevrin turned towards him. "They may not have your intelligence or control, but they are good people." His anger was obvious from the harshness of his tone.
      "But am I not the one most affected by the situation." he tipped his chin up. "After all it is my life, or lack thereof, we are talking about." Sevrin felt himself hustled from the room. A door slammed behind them. Nashen's hand pulled him down the hallway and into another room.
      "Now, young man." he said, boot heel grating on the floor as he turned to face him. "You will not be so vicious to your own blood parents."
      "They are the ones in hysterics." Sevrin pointed out.
      A ringing slap came out of the darkness. "Damn you, Sevrin." Nashen growled. "They did nothing to deserve your scorn."
      Sevrin rubbed at the side of his mouth, feeling a trickle of blood trace from his mouth from where Nashen's hand had forced his lip back against a tooth. "You have no right to hit me." he said cooly.
      "I have the right to do whatever I think fit with one of my children so they learn to respect those who are deserving of it." Arkay's voice was low and threatening. "Your offhand comment about your own lack of future was not a kind thing to say in front of your blood parents."
      "Then what should I have said? That I was thrilled that the length of my own life is to be measured in hours, not years or decades." His jaw clenched with rising anger.
      "Did you ever think they might be upset because they love you and don't wish to see you die for something they probably feel responsible for?" Nashen growled.
      "That was obvious." He said.
      Another slap came out of the darkness. "You are the most self-centered, arrogant, child I have yet to meet, Sevrin. What did they ever do to deserve such unkindness from you?"
      "Nothing, other than falling apart when I might well have wished to speak with them and most likely say good bye." His eyes stung with pain and the beginnings of tears. "I love them Nashen, as I love Arkay and you." His voice cracked. "I love life, despite what has happened. Other than being unable to see, I feel more alive than I ever have before and do not wish to give it up so soon." Scalding hot tears escaped his control. He wished he knew which way to turn so as not to show his weakness so obviously, so instead he simply stared into the darkness, as if his emotions had not betrayed him. "I do not know what will happen to me as I step beyond the veil, and I had not wished to be so soon." He licked salty tears from his lips, ignoring the sting in the tiny cuts Nashen's blows had made.
      "I can well understand your hurt, Sevrin." Nashen said, tracing what had to be tentacles over his face. The feel was both familiar and not. The soft velvet over steel touch of them was reminiscent of his mother and yet the emotional contact implied was entirely new. "But can you see it is not right to take out your hurt on those who care for you?"
      "I will never see them again." the common words held so many more meanings now. Reaching up, he pressed Nashen's tentacles to the side of his face, wanting so much more contact. "I will never see anyone ever again." And with this his situation finally struck home. Unable to stop the dissolution of his emotional armor, he dropped his face to the side, wishing he could simply curl up in someone's arms. To face his own death was one thing, to do so alone was even more than Sevrin could cope with. He hugged his useless arms to his chest. Never to experience a lover's touch, never to experience a Sime's grasp, never to hold his own child in his arms, never to even get the chance to try to find his match-mate.
      "Sevrin." Arkay's large hand landed on his shoulder. "Would you like us to leave you?"
      "No" he sobbed despite himself. He flipped his head up, imagining he could see the stars overhead. "I'm so afraid, Arkay."
      "I can understand your being afraid and hurt." Nashen's voice was now soft. "It still doesn't give you the right to hurt others in your pain."
      "I know." he swallowed heavily past his tight throat. "Would you, both, hold me?" And with that two pairs of arms surrounded him, one hot, the other cool, wrapping him in their love and affection.
      When his own hysterics passed, Sevrin smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry to have fallen apart on you."
      "If you hadn't eventually, I would have called for Diomid." Arkay said and his hand stroked the side of Sevrin's face. "You are barely fifteen, Sevrin."
      "I know." the thoughts of the things he would never know pounded on him with brutal force. "I don't want to die, Arkay!"
      "I don't want you to go." There was a catch in his voice as well. "I love you."
      "And I as well, young man." Nashen's voice was also very sad. "There is one option available to you."
      Hope leaped in his heart.
      "It may not be as joyous as you think, Sevrin." He swallowed heavily, and took a deep breath. "You do have a history of scholarship. The Veiled may accept you."
      "Not if I can't read or write." he shook his head, now crushed. To have been so close to any solution was more shattering than to have it never have been mentioned.
      "A moment." Arkay's hand went cold on his shoulder. "Yes, they will take you." He said finally. "You have an hour to present yourself at the Cathedral. They ask that you bring no more than three tokens of your past, and nothing irreplaceable or bracelets. Your clothes are incidental and will be returned to your family."
      "Before you rush off." Nashen held him tightly for a moment. "Think carefully on what you take with you. As soon as you pass the doors, you will be dead to all of us outside the veil."
      "I will." his whole body was shaking. "And, if there is any way at all possible, I would like to say good bye to my siblings as well as my parents."
      "I think that quite wise. Now go and comfort your blood parents while I get together some things I think you will wish to consider." Arkay said quickly. "Go, Nashen will lead you."
      And so it was done. Three things; a worn silver thimble from his father Avilan, for all the time they had spent beading and embroidering together; a tiny lap harp from his mother Karola, for the time she had taken to teach him his music; and from Arkay and Nashen, a ring of two bands intertwined for the memory of their boundless love.

Chapter 1

      "Um, excuse me." Vanesa was not feeling so very bold this morning. She knew her assigned transfer partner was going to be late, only showing up less than an hour before transfer, now she had found out the train was going to be late. "Could you tell me where to find someone by the name of Diomid?" So here she was taking her brother up on his advice. Perhaps this person could let her spend some time with their Donor.
      Even though she really wanted to find out if this Donor in front of her really did have as spectacular a nager as she imagined, first.
      "Yes" he turned. Her first impression was that of an eagle, with blue-grey eyes the color of frost.
      "So could I" and the channel sitting next to him and blinked big, innocent looking silver eyes at her.
      She waited and they continued to simply sit there and look at her. "I'm sorry, my manners are usually better. My name is Vanesa Tegue ambrav Kaon, Sectuib in Kaon."
      "So are ours." the silver eyed man smiled. "We were teasing you. My name is Nashen Fatimovich Fatima, Lord Fatima and this idiot next to me is Arkay Sergeyevich Fatima, Sharm Lord Fatima."
      "Who are you calling an idiot?" the big Donor's voice rumbled threateningly and Vanesa could have sworn she felt a chill breeze run down her back.
      "You" Nashen put an olive in Arkay's mouth. "You'll have to excuse us, we're both still a bit post."
      "I would certainly hope so or we're missing a great deal of selyn." Arkay said, his nager twinkling with his high emotions.
      "Now, you were looking for Diomid, correct?" Nashen said and the banter made even her smile.
      "Yes, actually I was." for all the odd clothes and harsh accents, these people seemed amazingly friendly.
      "He's right there." Nashen pointed with the piece of cheese he had been feeding Arkay. Arkay grabbed at it, licking Nashen's fingers in the process of removing it from Nashen's grasp.
      "Arkay, quit." he tapped the other man on the nose. "I don't think Vanesa is really in any condition to deal with our love play."
      "No, it's fine." she shook her head and looked the direction Nashen had pointed. Actually it was. The byplay seemed so natural and unforced, it didn't grate on her nerves at all.
      "If you wish to speak with me, it will have to be this morning, I'm afraid." Blue-grey eyes, the exact same shade as Arkay's seemed to look right through her.
      "If you'll excuse me then?" she nodded her head.
      "Quite all right, Vanesa." Arkay said and caressed her with his field. She had never felt such a thing, as if it had reached out and stroked her rather than simply conforming to his physical body.
      "Quit flirting, Arkay. Wait till she's post." Nashen's field seemed to reach out as well and interpose itself. Then his words hit.
      "No, not necessary at all." she stammered, trying to draw her dignity back around her.
      "Come here, little one." the man called Diomid said, holding out his hand as if he were a regular Donor, despite his unorthodox words. Gingerly she took it, bracing herself against any backlash, but all she felt was his large, gentle hand wrap around her own. "You are little." he got to his feet.
      She bristled, thinking about pulling her hand back.
      "I'm sorry." he raised her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "I should know better about making referents to someone's size." He looked down at himself depreciatingly.
      "But you are not short." she immediately said, and then looked at their hands, still touching.
      "Compared to my fellows I am." he managed to somehow get her hand on his elbow and was leading her from the table. "Kirina, I believe I should speak with Vanesa in private."
      "I think that would be best." the woman he had addressed zlinned entirely unamazed to see her partner ask to take someone off to a private location. She seemed to smile a bit at some secret. "I'll take Kalin and Shanir out to run about in the yard while you are talking. Maybe then we can get some peace and quiet this afternoon when he is down for his nap."
      "You were the one who wanted another child." his smile was absolutely infatuated.
      "I know, you remind me every time he gets into another scrape." she sighed, giving him back the same infatuated smile. "I don't remember Miran being this difficult."
      "I think it's nature's way of making sure we don't turn coward after the first." his deep chuckle seemed to rumble through his body.
      "I won't keep him too long." Vanesa promised. "And promise to return him in one piece."
      "He'll know how long you require." and with that odd phrase, Kirina hefted a toddler onto each hip and headed out for the courtyard.
      "Don't be out too long. It's going to rain in about an hour." Nashen said, as if it were a certainty. Vanesa hadn't remembered a cloud in the sky.
      "How long is it going to last?" she turned to him, as if asking what color she should paint the walls.
      "Don't know. Depends on how long your nephew can hold out." he grinned at her. "Vanesa?"
      "Huh?" she blinked, staring, totally baffled.
      It must have been obvious how confused she was, since Nashen went on without her answer. "No idea, love. Probably no more than a few hours though."
      "All right, I'll bring 'em in when it starts and let you and Arkay babysit for a while." she glared.
      "Yeah!" Mikhail's son cheered. Shasha, Vanesa remembered. "I like my dads. When's Mikhail going to be back?"
      "Tonight, after it rains." she told him, quite seriously. "Think you can wait till then?"
      "Yes, mat'." his lip quivered. "I don't like this time of the month. Everyone's gone all the time."
      "That's not true. You get a chance to see all your friends at this time, don't you?" she asked the child.
      "Yeah, we get to go visiting." Kalin looked proud of himself for bringing it up.
      "That's true." he sighed. "But I just got to know Mikhail and now he's gone again." The little boy's tone was so sad, Vanesa was doubly grateful she hadn't followed through on taking him away from these people.
      Diomid whispered in her ear. "We, the leaders of the Demense, normally keep our cycles within the same week. That way we can trade off child care and, occasionally, partners if we must. Everything slows down for that week and then goes back to normal for the rest of the time."
      "Ah, like weekends." she looked at him. "You know, that is a good idea." Vanesa wondered if that might work for Kaon and then decided against it. Having her and her sister in hard need at the same time would not be a good idea.
      "It works for us." he put his hand on top of hers. "Now, would you prefer our room or is there somewhere else you would like to go."
      "I heard you made some changes." she looked up at him and he immediately led her off.
      "A few." he patted her hand. "There were some adjustments that had to be made for many of us to be comfortable." Soon he opened a door for her. Vanesa blinked in surprise, even though with his contact, need seemed to be as distanced as if he were a 4+ Donor. How did he know I wanted to come up here with him? she looked around curiously.
      There was a large pile of pillows and blankets in one corner, where the bed had been. She had wondered where all the extras had come from. The chairs and table had been covered with a brightly colored cloth, all in reds and golds. A basket of fruit and bread held it in place. "If you don't mind, I would like to eat a bit more." he said softly, still steering her into the room.
      "Only if I can join you." she said, much to her own surprise.
      "Be my guest, as I am yours." he handed her an apple. It was one of the tangy, sweet, winy, black skinned ones she loved. They were still quite uncommon, even though the propagation of them was progressing quite nicely in their new orchards.
      "Thank you." she looked to the chair. With a nod, he released her hand and sat across the table from her.
      Peeling a rather well stored orange, he began, "So, did you wish to simply talk or was there something in particular you had in mind?"
      "Mikhail said you were the best doctor in the world." she gave him a grin.
      "I am certain he was exaggerating." Diomid grinned wryly. "I do have some abilities as healer, but I am not a miracle worker."
      "Even though I had expected a channel." slipped out before she caught it.
      "Sometimes it is possible to expect such a thing, say when a woman is pregnant." he grinned, licking some of the orange juice from his fingers. "There is not a great deal a channel can do, I can not." he looked at her and then she had the strangest feeling she was sitting across from another Sime. Stunned, she zlinned. Diomid zlinned Sime, renSime eight days after turnover to be exact. Then he zlinned high field Donor again. "It is amazing what practice and a little talent can do for you."
      "I would say." she studied her memories and realized the zlinning was precise, without the echoing effects of it being a channel's secondary field. Then she was tongue tied, realizing he was waiting for her to speak.
      "Are your autumns normally this warm?" his unexpected question surprised her.
      "Actually this one had been a bit cool and damp." she replied automatically. "Mikal always used to love it when the weather cooled off."
      "I think late summer is my favorite time, when the watermelons get ripe." his grin was boyish, lighting his field with delight.
      "I love melons of all kinds." she shook out her hair. "Peaches too."
      "So you are a summer person as well." he continued and soon she was chattering with him as if she had known him all her life.
     
      Vanesa had been a much tougher nut to crack then her brother. Armored emotionally and nagerically with stone glass half a meter thick, it took Diomid almost an hour to get her to unbend enough to even near the topic he knew she was wanting to talk about. "And my Donor won't be here until tonight." she was curled up in his lap in the nest of pillows.
      "But is there someone you can stay with until then?" he tucked her head under his chin. She is so tiny. he stroked her tense body, trying to smooth out the knots. Vanesa kept snarling up as fast as he could work them out.
      "Riana is here. You said Mikhail would be out of seclusion this afternoon." she sighed. There was still something more she was hiding.
      "But even still, is there no one waiting for you afterwards?" he kissed the top of her head.
      "No, that's why ..." and she stopped and shivered.
      "Was there some reason you wished for Shanir's company so much?" he twitched a blanket over them. The promised rain had arrived and with the window cracked open, it could get a bit chill in the room.
      "I hadn't thought of it like that." she relaxed a tiny bit more as she thought hard. No I'm sure you didn't, little one. "He's such a wonderful child." her heavy sigh tore at his heart, even behind his healer's facade. Now I know. he kissed her again, holding her close and thinking.
      "Would you be willing to take an alternate?" he asked softly, planning for all he was worth. The crystallization of ignored hopes and self hidden dreams was stunning. Rarely had he felt the breakthrough this strongly and smiled, knowing full well what this young woman wanted.
      "Yes, I would." the plain words hid a field licking at him with absolutely fearless fascination.
      "There is someone I would like in on this." he said. "Do you mind?"
      "No, not at all." her mind flashed on the image of Vayer so clearly it stunned him. It was hard to hold back his chuckle. *Vayer* he sent out a tendril of thought.
      *Yeeessss?* came back the feel of curiosity, need, warmth and the sharp scent of intrigue. What a combination. Diomid thought to himself.
      *Vanesa?* he sent what he knew of her.
      *Who?* The question was sharp, wavering between Diomid and Darya.
      *Kirina* he sent, giving her all the information at once.
      *Do it, beloved.* she gave him a kiss. *The lads really are lonely without their mothers. I'll take off m'brother.*
      *Love you, sister mine* Vayer sent back with a total affirmation from him and Darya.
      "Come on with ye, m'lass." he picked Vanesa up. "I have something I would like you to see."
      "Put me down." she held him tightly, burying her face against his chest.
      "We're not going out of our wing, little one." he held her tightly. "Although before you worry, Kirina and I have an understanding. It will not upset her at all for you to take transfer from me." As slowly as melting ice, he began slipping the controls from his field, letting it twine about her with his arms. "Actually she had said this morning she wished to spend more time with the children." Diomid deftly slipped the suggestion into her mind she truly had heard Kirina say such a thing.
      "I want her to tell me herself." Vanesa looked up at him suspiciously. "I don't remember her saying anything like that."
      "She'll back up everything I've said." As long as you can't listen in, you suspicious little minx Diomid was actually rather fascinated by this strong willed young woman. If he didn't have such problems engendering healthy children, he would be seriously tempted to take Vayer's place later, but for Vanesa to be forced to deal with a still birth or a monster would be a disaster.
      "I'm sure she will." There was a tightness about Vanesa's lips that told volumes about her temperament. The Sharm Lord who finally caught this one for good would be in for a wild ride.
      "Really, zlin me." he smiled, opening his field to her completely.
      "I know quite well you can lie to me with your field, Diomid." her temper was rising into her own.
      "I wouldn't except to heal." he looked her straight in the eyes. "I swear to you on my honor, Sectuib Vanesa." Which was absolutely true, as far as it went.
      Her zlinning was so intense it almost scorched his toenails. He raised an eyebrow at the intensity of the examination. "Content?"
      "Yes" her demeanor softened. "I'm sorry to be so suspicious."
      "It is the way you are." he said. "You would be someone else otherwise."
      "You are so incredibly glib, Diomid." she said, shaking her head with a tiny smile playing about her lips.
      "It is who I am, Vanesa." after the long, deliberate detour, they finally came to the room Vayer, Darya and Shanir shared. He knocked. "Would you have me change?" he jested.
      With perfect timing, aided by all the sendings, Kirina opened the door. "Please, come in."
      Vanesa wanted to be put down, so Diomid set her lightly on her feet, still keeping the physical contact between them and shielding her very sensitive nerves with his own field. "I was about to begin, but Kirina convinced me to wait." Vayer stroked his sister's arm possessively. When they were together the similarities were stunning, despite the physical differences.
      "I wanted you to be here." Kirina told him, not even flicking her eyes towards Vanesa. "Vayer was good enough to honor my request for channel's transfer this month."
      "Why would you want that?" Vanesa stepped forward, Diomid right on her heels.
      "Because I would like to spend this evening with the children and not be tied down with an over strong post reaction." she lied like a professional and Diomid winked at her.
      "But what about Diomid?" she turned to him.
      He shrugged, looking out the window.
      "Well?" Vanesa demanded.
      "If he could find someone else, I think it would make him happier and perhaps then he wouldn't steal all the blankets tonight." Kirina snorted. "He is a horrible blanket thief, Vanesa."
      "But I still want to sleep with you tonight and I don't think anyone who would have me in transfer wouldn't let me go to you so easily afterwards." Diomid grimaced, looking to Vayer.
      As smoothly as glass he picked up his cue, "Well, they could take their post reaction with Darya and me."
      Vanesa tracked perfectly, looking at Vayer and licking at her lips. It was too perfect. "I think I might well be interested in such a situation. My Donor won't be here until well after my time for transfer, and, well, I really wouldn't feel comfortable sharing my post reaction with the person I have transfer with. It is just too easy to form a dependency."
      Diomid cut this one off right at the pass, before anyone else could say anything, "And it would be horrible for you to want to mate with someone who must live apart from you. I understand. You have your own life and work. It's fine."
      "Then it's settled." she said, giving Diomid a truly inscrutable look.

Below:

      Over the long, empty years, Sevrin had become accustomed to a life of scholarship and political intrigue. If it weren't for the never ending loneliness and isolation, it very well might have been the life he would have chosen for himself. The tremendous amplification of his gifts as a Sharm Lord by the Veiled had given him back a facsimile of vision, although not for anything so mundane as a woman's face, but at least satisfactory for his reading and studies.
      Letting his fingertips drift over the page, he took in the words as their owner had originally implied centuries ago, comparing them to the more general trends in food production and weather patterns. This particular book had been written before the rise of the Demense of Fatima, and Sevrin was studying the effects of weather control on the evolution of society. There did not seem to be any superficial damage done, but the secondary effects were intriguing.
      Patiently weeding through the minutiae of daily life occasionally punctuated by unexpected hail storms and periods of drought, gave an image of great uncertainty Russia did not entertain today. Speaking into the device always at his elbow, Sevrin recorded his thoughts and observations before turning to his next task.
      The massive influx of people from the West had not been entirely unexpected by the Veiled. Among them were more than a few who could see the future, albeit imperfectly. The book Sevrin had been reading on the day he had lost his sight had been one of those which had been smuggled out of the Cathedral and never recovered. Sevrin had returned it to its rightful place in the vaults containing such dangerous information. The only question then had been what to do about it.
      So far it seemed their plans had been bearing fruit, even though the sweetness of such fruit was often bitter as gall. The crippling of Nashen's heir had torn Sevrin's heart until he could hardly function. Only his mentor had been able to get him going again with the reminder it was not his place to care for individuals with whom he no longer had any ties. Even his own name had been denied him in this place, with the others only referring to him as Slopye, or 'the blind one'. After Tzarya's defection, all contact with the outside world had been denied the Veiled, but through their intermediaries, like Arkay and Vayer, and then it was only mental contact.
      Then they lost contact with both Arkay and Vayer. No one they could speak with above was present. They had all traveled to continue the corruption of the Techton before it could destroy Rodina in its childish madness. Soon they would return, hopefully with the fruits of their conquest well begun, but if not, there were always other seeds to plant. Weeding his fields of the mind, Sevrin continued his studies, quite unaware of the plans fate had in store for him.

Chapter 2

      Vanesa eyed Diomid carefully. She knew he, and all of them, were plotting something. Every single one of the channels had the junct signature, but there was nothing at all undisciplined or uncontrolled about any of them, unlike the Distecht. Then she turned her attention to Vayer. She had seen him in passing, but hadn't known exactly who he was, other than an incredibly powerful channel.
      "Then I think we should give my nephew's sister an example of Russian hospitality." Vayer said. There were so many overtones and implications to his words it made Vanesa's head spin. Here is a man who truly wields power. the voice and the carriage screamed the thought to her. Now she knew why Vayer was the ruler of these people, it was simply who he was, as Diomid would say. What would it be like to gain that trait for Kaon? she asked herself and smiled at the answer. There was one way she could make the attempt.
      "Please, I don't know a great deal about you." she said simply. Vayer nodded to her and winked, as if in acknowledgment of equal power.
      "I would be surprised if you did, Sectuib Kaon." Darya said, startling Vanesa no end. The woman was still curled up an a huge nest of cushions in the corner, her eyes bright against her dark skin, and Vanesa noted, dark nager as well. "We are not the most transparent people in the world." Her voice was a dusky purr against her field twining about her like smoke.
      "That is an understatement, my love." Vayer's field reached out towards Darya and stroked it. "We have been together for nearly seventeen years and are very familiar with each other, Vanesa."
      "Quit bragging, Vayer." Kirina elbowed him in the ribs. The look he gave her was so familiar Vanesa had to look away. The two of them together were so obviously siblings.
      "But why?" he returned the look. "If I can't brag with three beautiful women here then what good am I?"
      "I'm not beautiful, I'm your sister." she stood on her toes and kissed him on the nose.
      "You are beautiful to me." Diomid purred.
      "You flatter me, my love." she preened. "And I love every word of it."
      "Then I shall do it until you give in to my unnatural desires." Vayer bowed to her, all the way down to his knee.
      "Ah, sirrah, I'm afraid I'm an old married woman with four children and ne way te keep ye." Kirina hugged him and planted a big sloppy wet kiss on his forehead.
      "Ack!" he wiped it off. "Sister germs, baby sister germs." It was too much, Vanesa had to laugh, even though she stifled it against her hand.
      "Four children? Is there one you have hidden under the desk at home?" Diomid asked archly.
      "Yes, four," she turned to him. "Tzanya, Miran, Kirin and Diomid." Her face was absolutely deadpan.
      Vanesa howled with laughter at Diomid's totally offended look. Then he gave her the classic lost little Gen expression and she had to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes she was laughing so hard. "Good, you feel better now." he said softly into her ear. "Need should not be a thing of torment."
      Taking stock, she realized how very right he was. Need still made its presence known, but the warmth and humor dispelled the horrible ache she usually felt right before transfer. His arm around her shoulders felt so very perfect. "Thank you." she said, smiling up at him. "Too bad you're already taken."
      "Very much so, m'lass." he kissed her forehead. "But there'll be someone younger and newer for you. Be patient."
      "Sometimes it's hard to be patient, Diomid." she leaned against him, now feeling very much at home.
      "I know. I had to wait to grow up before I could see my love waiting for me." he tipped his head toward Kirina. "But she was patient with me through all of it and now we have three fine, strong, children."
      When she looked away from Diomid's arresting gaze, she finally noticed Vayer and Kirina had stopped playing around and were faced off, just beginning to prepare for transfer. Diomid led her around until they were sitting with Darya on the edge of the nest. He stripped off his robe and set it aside. As if they had planned it, both of them put their arms around her. It was almost suffocating being between the two high field Donors there was so much selyn in their bodies. Very faintly she could zlin the interaction between the siblings. She leaned forward to watch more closely. I can't have zlinned that.
      Vayer was now projecting Gen, but not a passive, quiet Gen. His field shimmered with vibrant life, dancing just out of Kirina's reach. Her field hardened, beginning to edge towards kill mode. He backed up a stride, watching her every move. A low throaty growl rose from her throat, raising the hackles on Vanesa's neck. She had never seen or zlinned a kill in her life, but had heard the stories.
      "Be still, little one." Diomid whispered.
      Then the fields froze. For a heartbeat, Kirina's head snapped up, then she went into kill mode. Vayer sidestepped, dodging her rush. No Gen could have done that. Vanesa's eyes widened. Kirina howled, pure predator. The dancing field teased at her again, laced with the very faintest tremor of fear. She snapped around and grabbed her brother. He rocked beneath the contact, but gave a yank backwards on her grasp. She fell on him, and he caught her, letting her make the final contact. A blazing flare of selyn shattered the ambient as she pulled at him.
      Then the most shocking thing, he pulled back, driving the ambient mad. Kirina snarled, breaking down the resistance and killing her brother.
      Or at least that's what it zlinned like. Vanesa blinked, looking at the two of them now hugging each other and pounding on each other's backs. "Goodness" she breathed, blinking some more. "I don't think I've ever seen a channel's transfer like that."
      "It won't work for more than a few months, but it does feel better than a splice, or so I've been told." Diomid murmured in her ear.
      "Thank you, brother mine." Kirina kissed his cheek, flush and happy with new life.
      "You are quite welcome, sister mine." he kissed her back. "And you were a delight, as always."
      "You just like to play the Gen." she tweaked his nose, looking at Darya and winking.
      She laughed, sending more ripples through the ambient. "Sometimes he likes to be caught." her field implied many, many things to the word caught, some of them quite obscene.
      "We'll see who gets caught later tonight." He licked his lips. His pink tongue behind the short black beard was a startling contrast.
      "I have to get going." Kirina said, winking at Diomid. "I'll see you this evening?"
      "I'll be waiting for you." he said, still holding on to Vanesa as Kirina left.
      "If I'm in the way ..." she looked at him.
      "You would be if you left me now." his heavy lidded gaze promised her things she wasn't quite ready to deal with and she leaned back. He shook his head sharply. "I'm sorry Vanesa. The little display was more than a bit arousing to me." Then she noted her heart was still pounding wildly, and it was not with fear. "Relax, I'm not going to leave you or force you into anything, Vanesa. If you wish to go, or would prefer a channel's transfer, we can arrange that as well. Nashen or Vayer should would be able to satisfy you."
      "No, no, I was simply surprised at the, well, enthusiasm." she shivered in remembered fear as she thought Kirina had actually killed.
      "It feels good and there is no harm done in it." Vayer wedged himself between her and Darya. "This feels good too." he leaned over and kissed Darya's neck. "Normally I would be more, well, romantic with a transfer partner, but Kirina and I have never felt comfortable with it. We were very close as children. The horseplay is another way to get us both excited enough to be able to really have a good transfer." The hot line of his body against hers was incredibly distracting, even before transfer, then she realized he was still sharing a bit in the post reaction he had given Kirina.
      "You have to get excited for transfer?" I've always been more than ready
      "Not an issue of have to really, but more want to." He smiled lazily at her, letting his own need come thrumming through his now almost empty secondary field. "Transfer should be a pleasure; it only comes once a month. Besides, I would not be much of a gentleman if I did not give my partner as much pleasure as I receive." His dark blue eyes were hooded. "It can not be said I am not a gentleman."
      "There are times when I like your being a rogue." Darya said huskily. "Come here and kiss me and quit flirting with Vanesa for a moment. I'm sure Diomid would like a turn."
      "Very much so." his voice rumbled and she turned back to him. Very softly, very gently, he traced the side of her face with his large hand. Her eyes closed as his field wrapped around her, a glowing, cool mist with a hundred eyes. The brilliant imagery was completely alien, but beautiful all the same. "Do you still wish for this, Vanesa?" he breathed, kissing her brow. His lips were soft and cool, promising her life.
      "I do." she opened her eyes and looked straight into his. He smiled, a slow, caring look full of concern and attention entirely for her. With only his fingertips, she felt her head tipped back. With that same, slow care, he kissed the base of her throat. His whiskers teased at the soft skin there, sending a shiver of warmth through the cold need at her core.
      One slow, soft kiss at a time he worked his way up to her lips. Every single contact tugged ever so gently at her need, drawing it out as if it were a timid animal and not a potentially raging beast. He licked at her lips. Startled, she licked back. Chuckling softly, he pressed her closer and kissed at them. Selyn spiraled around them as she opened her mouth to his. "Yes my pretty." he murmured, stroking her arms with his fingers. "Open to me."
      Dropping hyperconcious, she opened her field. The dark pit of need gaped at her feet. But it was not grabbing at her. Instead it waited, a tamed beast beneath the lash of Diomid's light. It cringed and cowered before the brightness shielding her. The cool mist draped about her shoulders and beckoned to the darkness.
      The velvet night began to rise, rearing out of the pit. Sustained by her guardian, she mocked it, throwing her joy at freedom in its ebony face. It snarled, calling for life. *Feed it* a heavy male voice told her. Throwing off the chains of need, Vanesa reached for the darkness within her. It came at her call, submissive to her hand and bowed at her feet. Reaching down, she grasped its soft chin in her hands. It whimpered, a low, piteous sound. Compassion called to her. Gently, she twined the mist about her hand and held it out to the darkness. Its tongue was cold and wet as it licked between her fingers.
      Lovingly, she watched the mist spiral down her arm. Slowly at first, the darkness breathed in the living fog. Then faster and faster till she and it were one, filling and filled with liquid fire, warming her entire body and soul. Heat and life renewed made her cry out to the now starry heavens in wonder.
     
      As gently as he had teased Vanesa into transfer, Diomid slid out of her grasp. He gave her one final soft kiss. "I am not for thee." he whispered so silently it was only a breath. "Thy companion awaits thee." he steered her towards Vayer, who was now also wildly post. Even before sense returned to her eyes, she had locked onto Vayer with the fervor of a convert.
      He caught Darya's eye. She was also wildly post, but encouraging Vayer with all her heart to go to Vanesa. "Later" a half smile teased at her lips and Diomid knew exactly what she had planned.
      "Good for you." he blew her a kiss. "He deserves another."
      "I know." she winked. Diomid let himself out, chuckling under his breath. Two someones were going to get a surprise from today's adventures.

Below:

      Thy companion awaits thee The words howled through Sevrin's sleeping mind, waking him in a pool of fear sweat. Until he had given up on his fantasies of companionship, those words tore him from restfulness on a nightly basis. The Veiled satisfied their bodies' needs with what he would guess were very powerful and complete transfers, but their emotional intimacy was only that necessary to gain the power they required for their talents. Never having known anything else, Sevrin, when he was younger, had fantasized about finding such emotional intimacy with another, but the iron strong traditions of the Veiled precluded all necessary prerequisites to such intimacy.
      Never had Sevrin spoken with a Lord in any way which would be in violation of the traditions of the Veiled. A few of his fellows, when he had first arrived had dared the bans. They had been destroyed shortly thereafter. It was said they were found unsuitable and their things they had brought from above destroyed with them. The ceremony had been chilling, with the persons found in error sealed in stone while the masters made the other young ones, like him at the time, be present while the bricks and mortar were emplaced. Sometimes a young one would simply be found unsuitable and given a similar end.
      The wet slapping sounds and clicks of stone sometimes still gave Sevrin nightmares, all these years later. Although he did admit to himself it was sufficient motivation to excel.
      Giving up on getting back to sleep, Sevrin untangled himself from his blankets and pulled his hair back into a knot at the nape of his neck. It had gotten quite long, never having been cut or subject to the vagaries of weather or wind. After a quick shower, he returned to his study. Work did not sooth him back to a restful state of mind and he debated with himself the marginal value of speaking with a mind healer. No, that would not be satisfactory. he decided.
      A knock came at his door.
      "Come in" he said and waited patiently.
      "Slopye, there is word from our travelers." a young male voice informed him, almost breathless. Sevrin really wished the sensitives would get their contact net in order soon.
      "We are in no rush here below. Time will fulfill its ordered course despite our demands on it." he said, narrowing his sightless eyes. "Speak clearly, young one and you will please me more than your rushed error."
      "At your will, Slopye." he could image the youngster turning his face away from his own visage. "All proceeds as planned."
      "Of course." Sevrin snapped, annoyed at the continued use of the hated name. "Is there anything of import you have to say?"
      "Only that Mikal has begun tightening the trade bonds quite satisfactorily."
      "How much better than expectations?" was his only question.
      "Approximately five percent over expected with the first tribe he contacted."
      "Which one." Sevrin snapped, annoyed at the youngster's indifference to detail.
      "Ummm ... I forgot to ask."
      "See that you don't in the future. Go on." he leaned forward, trying to give lie to his own blindness.
      "There will be another, more solid bond between the Rus and the Westerners as well." the young man almost chortled in glee.
      "I am not surprised." Sevrin lied smoothly. "Bring me the report when it is written up. Now be well and do your duty, young man." he opened the door of his study with his mind.
      "At your will, Sharm Lord." he scurried from the room, almost forgetting to close the door behind himself.
      Interesting, very interesting. Sevrin rested his chin on his steepled fingers. I wonder if my dream had anything to do with this? For dreams were the primary way they had of communicating across the globe in this day and age without repeater towers and satellites. It was how the sensitives worked, picking people's daily activities out of their sleeping minds.

Chapter 3

      Mikhail rolled over again, trying to get comfortable. It had been a wonderful couple of days, but he was itching to be up and about. Even having gone to get, and share, a quick shower and spend a couple of hours with Shanir didn't really help his restlessness.
      "Will you settle down." Tzer grumbled, and then he thrashed.
      "Easy" Mikhail grinned, untangling himself from the bedding. "Why don't we get going. I'm about to pop with energy."
      "Me too." he grinned right back and they both laughed. "Why don't we go for a run?"
      "I thought you'd never ask, come on." ignoring the chill in the air, Mikhail quickly got into a loose pair of pants and rather disreputable old shirt.
      "Ye look like m' gran'ther Avilan." Tzer snorted, looking at him from the door. He was only wearing a pair of shorts. Even though as he pulled at his ankles, Mikhail found them quite fetching.
      "Thank you." Mikhail bowed extravagantly as part of his stretching. "Aren't those going to be a bit, well, drafty?"
      "They're comfortable." he shrugged. "Besides, it's what, almost five out? Be serious."
      After slipping on one of the few things he had missed, running shoes, Mikhail ran past Tzer out the door. "Come catch me." and he headed for the stairs down at top speed.
      "No fair, you can go down stairs faster than I can." Tzer squawked, right after him. Eventually they made it to the road circling the extent of the old Kaon householding. As they ran, Mikhail pointed out old landmarks and places he had gone to play as a child. He's putting on a good pace Mikhail noted, watching his love's breath steam in the morning air.
      Finally they came back around to the beginning, but Mikhail still wasn't ready to call it quits. Sweat streamed down his flanks, but it felt so good. With a burst of speed, he headed for the stairs.
      "Great idea." Arkay bellowed, "Come on, Nashen." Mikhail heard from the hall behind them.
      "As soon as I finish getting dressed." Nashen snapped back. And soon they had company, eventually lots of company as almost everyone piled out into the hallways and ran the few stairs of the complex.
     
      The sound of running feet woke Vanesa from her sound sleep. What's wrong? she untangled herself from the bedding and bolted for the door. Opening the door she saw a whole crowd of people running up the stairs, her brother in the lead. "In here!" she shouted, waving him in, sure he was being chased.
      "What?" he looked stunned, and then a broad grin split his face as he slowed to a walk, everyone behind him coming to a crashing stand-still. The silly fool just stood there, chest heaving, as he looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "I'm fine." he panted, wiping at the sweat streaming down his face.
      "We're not done yet!" Arkay's voice bellowed from the rear.
      "My master calls." he tipped his head, laughed, and ran down the hallway. Tzer was right behind him and Vanesa stared at his broad back as he ran after her brother. Then the rest of the crowd passed by, Arkay and Nashen bringing up the end. Nashen was wearing even less than Tzer and the tiny, very tiny, shorts did not do a great deal for anyone's sense of modesty, or her blood pressure for that much matter.
      "You're drooling, little one." he stopped running and walked in little circles in front of her. She could see the long, strong, muscles of his thighs strain from the exercise.
      "And you're showing off." Arkay looked back and came to them. He was even more spectacular. "Come on, lover. We can talk later." he swatted Nashen's behind, making him yelp and run off. "No augmenting!" he shouted. Nashen's laughter echoed back down the hallway. "If you'll excuse me?" he tipped his head to her.
      "Certainly." she was so busy staring at his massive chest, he could have asked for the keys to the vault and she would have said yes. Then he ran off, putting on a burst of power to catch up, making her own breath catch. She leaned against the doorframe and stared. Pretty, pretty, pretty. she purred in the silence of her own mind.
      She turned, finding Vayer smiling at her with a very knowing look. "Like what you see?" he purred, sitting up and stretching. Her memory of all that sleek muscle beneath her fingertips made her knees quiver. "I think so." his eyes and field held a heat to dispel any chill. "Come back to bed." his request was kindly made, and it worked.
     
      Mikhail was left to explain this morning's little adventure to his sister. He didn't think this was particularly fair, but it could be a great deal of fun. "What in the world are you eating?" she looked at his breakfast with an expression of total disgust.
      "Um," he looked at it, not seeing what was the problem. "Fried potatoes, eggs, onions, tomatoes, cheese and a bit of red sauce." Nothing seemed to be amiss. He looked under the mass to see if there was a problem he couldn't see with a single glance.
      "All together." she backed up a step.
      "Why not?" Tzer swiped a slice of darkly fried potato. "Ooh, that red stuff is good." he stole another.
      "Get your own." Mikhail poked him with a fork. "Mine."
      "I think I will." Tzer grabbed the bottle of highly spiced flavoring.
      "That stuff is hot." Vanesa warned.
      "I know." he grinned back. "Good." He proceeded to just about drown his breakfast. Mikhail could feel the heat of it himself as Tzer indulged.
      "We'll be bringing back a few bottles." he whispered to his lover.
      "How about a few barrels. The Southerners would love this stuff."
      "Good idea." he returned his attention to his sister. "Now, you look like your tail is on fire. Is it from overuse or temperament?"
      Her face burned as red as the rooster sauce and Mikhail crowed with laughter. "Don't tease." she bit at her lip. Tzer waved her to a seat, making a point of putting a large, soft cushion on it. "Either of you." but she did sit down a bit gingerly.
      "If I can't tease my own sister, who can I tease?" he reached over and ruffled her short hair.
      She snarled and slapped at his hand.
      "Oh, ow, you hit a Gen." he looked at his hand with a pout.
      "Do it again." Tzer told her. "He deserves it."
      "Don't help Tzer." Mikhail told him, poking at him with his fork again.
      "Promise to fork me again?" he looked up through long, thick, eyelashes, batting them.
      "Really now." she laughed, sounding far more carefree than Mikhail had ever heard her. He knew quite well his oldest sister had a tendency to want to control everyone and everything around her. It was good for Kaon, but not for her heart.
      "Did you have a good time, Vanesa?" he asked, twining his love for his sib around her with his field.
      "Yes, I did." her smile was dreamy. "You were right, Diomid is the best."
      "At some things." he gave Tzer a very possessive glance. "But as a healer, in all ways, I would agree with you completely." There was no way, in words, he could tell her how happy he was to see her like this.
      But what words couldn't do, the bond between siblings could. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I love you, sister mine."
      "And I love you, my brother." Her tentacles came out and bound their hands together. "Now, what was this with everyone charging through the halls like a herd of horses first thing in the morning? All after your sorry behind?"
     
      "Exercise? You were all running through the building like a bunch of demented children for exercise?" she couldn't believe it. Someone had set a plate full of food in front of her. Not paying any attention to what she was doing, Vanesa found herself shoveling it in like a Gen. The remains of grits with sweet syrup, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, even half a loaf of bread and two tomatoes stared back up at her from her now clean plate.
      "Hungry, I see." Diomid sat down beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders.
      "Starving, it seems." Vanesa hadn't eaten like that since change over.
      "Must have been the exercise." he tapped her on the nose. "It's good for all of us."
      "Simes don't have to exercise." she gave him a quizzical glance.
      "Then why do you feel so good this morning, little one?"
      "I'm post." she said, but felt her confusion come through. "But I usually don't eat like this after transfer." She debated nibbling on another piece of bread with herself.
      "Simes require physical exercise the same way Gens do." he handed her the bread, after drizzling a bit of honey over it. "It is simply harder for them to get it."
      "How so? We can augment." The tasty, moist, warm, bread was wonderful. In her earlier ravening she had hardly noticed it.
      "And that is the problem. If all you ever do is augment, and not use your muscles properly, your entire body suffers for it. You lose your appetite, both for selyn and food, eventually, you lose muscle tone and skin tone, and fertility goes to almost nothing." he said calmly, putting honey and cheese together in a way she would have never thought of and popped it in her mouth. Chewing at the wonderful mixture of tastes and textures, she thought about what he said. Then she looked around.
      "We insist Simes eat at least one meal a day." even to her it sounded like a feeble excuse, zlinning the incredible good health of the people surrounding her. "Even when they don't want to. Simes live on selyn, not calories."
      "You live on selyn for energy." he hugged her close. "And you have to eat for the building blocks of your bodies. If you don't work your body, certainly, you don't have to eat. But that is not healthy. Physical exercise keeps the physical components of your body working correctly, as selyn gives you the energy to move that body around." He sighed, smiling at her like a father trying to convince a recalcitrant child. "Vanesa, cells in your body are dying and being made all the time."
      "I know that."
      "Good, I don't know what you do and don't know." he fed her something incredibly sweet and wonderful. It seemed to have all kinds of things in it her body desperately craved. "That is a date, by the way." He went on. "If someone, either larity, doesn't exercise their body enough, all those dead cells simply collect, poisoning the healthy ones. Energy can put together new ones, but without clearing out the old, and having the materials present from eating well, you won't be at your best.
      "Here, I'll show you." he said, looking around. "Nivanya!" he shouted over her head.
      "Yes, Diomid?" she shouted right back. It was strange the way none of the Simes used the huge nageric fluctuations in the ambient, almost as if they didn't zlin. Then she realized all of them only flickered into duo-consciousness for split seconds, and that rarely. Intrigued at the possibilities, Vanesa tried to copy the tecnique. At first it was like learning to stay duo-conscious, awkward and uncomfortable. But as she stuck with it, she realized it gave her an incredible freedom as well.
      "Better, little one?" Diomid whispered in her ear.
      "Much." she sighed and realized he had removed the protective barrier between her and everyone else. Now, when she did zlin, it was as clear as she was used to, but nothing seemed to bother her.
      "Now you feel Rus." her brother patted her hand. "Nice, isn't it?"
      "I've never been this free of my body." she blinked, realizing the truth of the matter. "Even being Tegue isn't like this."
      "Zlinning is useful, but it is not a panacea." A young woman appeared, taking a seat at Diomid's other side. "We teach our youngsters not to zlin all the time by setting them to work in the stables. Horses don't care about zlinning or Sime strength."
      "Fatima teaches hers by throwing them in the river." Tzer told her, with a wry grin. "I was not very good at it."
      "You almost drowned." Mikhail put his arm around Tzer's shoulders. "I had to drag you out and teach you to swim in the strong currents."
      "Yes, and my third best work Kador is still at the bottom of the river." Arkay tossed an olive pit at Mikhail.
      "You could have thrown me an uneaten one, Arkay." Mikhail lobbed it right back.
      "It is freeing for them too." the young woman said, taking one of the dates and nibbling on it. Her hair was a brilliant, flaming red and she had even more freckles tracing over her nose and cheeks than Vanesa herself. Bright green eyes looked up at her and Vanesa realized this woman was even shorter than she was. "My name is Nivanya Kironova Kirov, Lord Kirov."
      "Vanesa Tegue ambrav Kaon, Sectuib Kaon." she held out her finger and tentacle tips. Nivanya took her hand and shook it firmly, as if she were from Out-Territory, but letting her tentacles twine with Vanesa's. Of course in some ways, she really is from Out-Territory.
      "Now why did you drag me away from Ilyan?" she asked Diomid, and in that instant, Vanesa knew this young woman had a temper to match her own.
      "You are the closest in build to Vanesa." he said calmly, seeming completely unfazed by Nivanya's look of disbelief. "Seriously, we have been discussion the requirements of the Sime body for physical exercise."
      "Well, it feels good, for one." she smiled broadly. "I feel like hell if I go for more than a few days without a good run or bout in the salle. I don't want to eat, don't want to even get out of bed. Ick." she shivered in disgust. "For me I suppose that's enough. I'm not much of a theoretician, Vanesa. I'm a worker bee, despite being Lord Kirov."
      "You put yourself down too much, little one." Diomid kissed her forehead. "You've done a great job pulling Kirov together again after Val's last years."
      "Kirov is used to it." she grimaced. "Oh well, that's old water under the bridge." And with that, she began taking off her clothes.
      "Won't you be cold?" Vanesa asked, trying to give her an out for undressing in front of a complete stranger and all these other people.
      "I'm Kirov." she said, as if that answered everything. Perhaps it does Vanesa eyed the other woman's rather luxuriant hair, not all of it on her head. Nivanya was slender, true, but sleek like a cat, with only two ribs barely showing and the very faintest traces of the lines of muscle crossing her abdomen. A twinge of jealousy snapped at her as she noticed Nivanya's pregnancy. "Yes, two months." she said, beginning to put her clothes back on.
      "And why didn't you tell me?" Diomid looked down his nose at her.
      "Because it was none of your business." she snapped back.
      "Nivanya!" a man who must be her spouse, from the tone of familiar irritation, snapped out.
      "Yes, love." she turned to him.
      "You didn't go to Diomid like you said you would?" A tall young man came up and grasped her by the shoulders.
      "I hadn't gotten around to it." she said, snuggling into his arms.
      "I'm sorry, Sharm Lord Sergei." Ilyan stroked his hand through Nivanya's hair, almost completely covering her head with his large hand. "I thought she had gone to you for her first examination already."
      "I was going to." she snapped at him.
      "When, after he's born?" Ilyan growled back, still holding her as gently as he would a bird, completely at odds with his sharp words.
      "Before." she said, and Vanesa could see the grin beginning to peek out.
      "How long before, a week?" he asked, now teasing her back.
      "At least, maybe even a month." she said, hugging him tightly. "Oh I love you, Ilyan."
      "Good thing." he said, earning him a smack on the butt. "You hit." he sniffled mightily.
      "And you lie." she replied.
      "Not when I say I love you, Nivanya." he said softly.
      "You're forgiven." she purred, melting into his arms.
      "And you'll be forgiven as soon as Diomid takes a look at your skinny little carcass." he kissed the top of her head.
      "You're the carnivore." she snapped at his fingers in play.
      "Not last night." he said with a wicked grin and Nivanya blushed to match her hair.

Below:

      It was confirmed. That wily young snake Vayer had managed to seed the only viable leader the Techton had. Sevrin chortled in absolutely unaffected glee. He was even more spectacular as Ruler for Russia than his father had been. It would have truly been a shame if the Veiled had been so lax as to let either one of them be killed by Tzarya.
      As his siblings, as Sevrin still thought of them in the silence of his own mind, paired off, one by one, Sevrin actually had felt more connected with the world and not less. The lines of his parents were strong and healthy with the one exception of himself, having bred extraordinary fertility and viability into their children. Then he read down further and laughed out loud. Vayer's mate was even more tricky than he was.
      "It will be a good thing to have more than one of that sire's line available in Russia." he recorded into his own notes. "I was never happy with the line having only one representative, female at that." Females were never as strong for dissemination of critical bloodlines, as their limited fertility was a definite hindrance. They were excellent for strengthening a line in a back cross, however. "Perhaps we should investigate a reinforcement for the Vayer-Darya cross in the next generation or two. Creating a line of strong rulers might well be a good idea at this time. This particular cross might carry the strengths of leadership as talent as well as environment."
      Sevrin leaned back in his chair. It was a very, very good thing having placed Darya with Vayer. The out cross was worth the risk they had taken with her initially non-functional endocrinal system. It was not a genetic problem in origin, so they had arraigned for her to be healed of the flaw. Otherwise she would be down here with us. Tzer was massively powerful and did not share the insanity flaw. Bringing in the outsider Sharm Lord Kir and Darya's mother had been a stroke of genius. Nivanya was also free of the insanity flaw, although she was a carrier for it.
      He studied Nivanya's genotype again. There the damn thing is he glared at the strings of misarranged codons. She only had them from her father, but they were in the recessive form and not the dominant, unlike so many generations of Kirov. Ilya, Valentine's father, had been doubled up on the damn thing. Unfortunately many of them were cheek and jowl with the pyrokinetic and meteorological genes.
      Flipping through his records, Sevrin examined the current make up for Maryam. "Less than two generations and it will be done." Maryam was to die. She had outlived her usefulness to the Rus generations ago, and the additional stress of dealing with the Techton would be her death knell. "We should replace Maryam with the Vayer-Darya line, if we can. Even if the only trait we can stabilize for the new line is Darya's ability to determine larity and gender at conception, it would be a satisfactory replacement. Particularly as we managed to save the old Azov line through Alexandrya."
      That had been a stroke of good luck and a piece of Arkay's best work. Having Alexander Azovich beget at daughter on that animal sensitive lord had been an extraordinary bit of finagling. Too bad the back cross between Lord Nashen and Lord Kirina hadn't worked out. Thinking hard about it for a moment, he realized there was no way even the veiled could manage to get a back cross between Tzer and Darya. Even though that might well bury the damned necessary meteorological talents. Sevrin grimaced, realizing the dead end nature of that particular path.
      All of his wool gathering had at least managed to put Sevrin's mind back into its proper track. Reaching back into his pile, he went back to his calculations of the necessity of the timing for the occurrence of the next Fatima back cross. His research into the effects of weather control had led him to the decision that Fatima was necessary to the continued health of Russia without question.

Chapter 4

      "And just where have you been all night?" a strident female voice broke into the cheerful mood like a wet blanket.
      Vanesa turned towards the door. "I've been here, with our visitors." She said calmly, trying to steady the ambient. Soon she had more help in that department than she would have wished, with both Diomid and Arkay piling in to 'help'. "Don't help." she muttered under her breath. Both to Diomid and Arkay who was only now descending the stairs with his partner, the beautiful Nashen.
      "Sorry, Sectuib." Diomid murmured in her ear, backing off. Arkay did as well, but she could feel his reluctance.
      "Now, what can I do for you, Jina?" she asked, waving her erstwhile Donor to a seat.
      "I was two hours late and couldn't find you. What do you think I want?" Her growl set Vanesa's tentacles twining from their sheathes in protest.
      "But I had transfer." she decided to try to bull her way through this rather sticky mess.
      "Not with someone on the rolls." Jina looked around. "There isn't anyone within a hundred miles who could give you transfer except your brother and I know he is on controller's restriction." Her eyes narrowed at him.
      "If I may help?" Mikhail looked her straight in the eyes, and then winked.
      Be my guest. she waved him to the floor.
      "You are probably rather put out that your partner for this month has been satisfied, leaving you high and dry with no transfer in sight. Am I correct?" a smile was playing over his lips behind his light beard.
      "Yes" Jina glared at her. "And without it being on the rolls I can't get a reassignment."
      "Then what I recommend you do, as we are owed selyn from some place to make up for the shortfall, is that you give your excess to one of our channels." He sounded as if he expected the suggestion to go over well. What are you doing, brother mine?
      Jina obviously did not find it any more appealing than Vanesa would have in her position. "Do you think I'm some kind of shidoni fool?" she snapped. Every single one of the Russians leaned back from her with identical looks of distaste.
      "Please, Jina. My friends here find the words for a transfer abort to be particularly distasteful." Mikhail still had that knowing smile. "They also have some transfer techniques which are quite acceptable substitutes for direct transfer, for the short term, at least. Wouldn't you say, Vanesa?"
      As she had been busy day dreaming about the wonderful transfer she had with Diomid, she had to stop and regroup her thoughts. "Oh, yes, different, definitely."
      "But that's for Simes." she turned to Mikhail with a truly pitiful look. "You understand, don't you?"
      "Yes, I do. Gens get post too." he hugged Tzer to him. "Trust me on this." The look in his clear blue eyes was probably only truly comprehendible to another Donor, but Vanesa could catch the very edges of it.
      "Yes, I think you well might." Jina showed the first hint of a smile. "Then who would you recommend?"
      "Either Vayer or Nashen." He looked thoughtful for a moment, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes at her as if he could zlin. "You are too high field for anyone else but Tzer."
      "What about Kirina?" Vanesa figure that since she had been quite well satisfied by Diomid, his normal partner would certainly be all right.
      "No, Kirina is almost fifteen percent beneath Nashen and a hair more than that below Vayer."
      "What?" Vanesa felt her heart pound. "You mean I could have killed Diomid?"
      "No, no, sweet." he kissed her cheek fondly. "You couldn't have killed me unless I were ill or you took me from behind. I simply induced a splice-transfer."
      "A what?" she turned to look at him.
      "I spliced a bit of your secondary into your primary at the initiation of transfer before you truly began to draw from my own field." His light blue eyes seemed completely at home with his totally unfamiliar words.
      "Let me see if I have this straight." This sounded way too much like a Zaor technique for her peace of mind. "You siphoned off some of the selyn I hold for transfer to renSimes as part of our personal transfer?"
      "Yes" he shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "You weren't wanting a full transfer, which for us means involvement of all the selyn channels, including those which carry what we call talent, so a splice-transfer would not have been particularly any detriment."
      This was incomprehensible, but she thought she had the edges of it. "You mean to say as you did not give me a junct style transfer, this splice-transfer wouldn't be a problem."
      "Exactly, I think." And then he grinned that amazing smile at her and she forgot to fret about it. Other than having to adjust the records. She now noted the missing selyn in her secondary field.
      "So, as you can see, we do have a few tricks up our sleeves." Diomid held out his hands, showing them to Jina. "Mostly our unusual techniques come from making transfer feel better for the participants, both of them."
      "I would agree with that." A gentleman with the purest sapphire blue eyes Vanesa had ever seen chimed in. He was also the most stunningly beautiful man she had ever seen in her life.
      "I know you would, Avilan." His partner, a woman with silvered black hair and violet eyes quipped. "Avilan has a reputation to maintain."
      "Yes, for being the most randy gentleman in any company." Nashen piped up.
      "Not true. At least not with you and Arkay around." he licked his lips, making them glisten with moisture. What am I thinking about? Vanesa pulled herself away from contemplation of the gesture with a start.
      "That is just Avilan being an idiot. Don't mind him." Diomid whispered in her ear. "It's all for show."
      "Really, I was just playing, Vanesa." His silken voice was full of good humor. "I have my hands full these days with Karola and like it that way. So, as you can see Jina, we do have some skills which could make you more comfortable."
      "Who would you recommend?" she asked, sounding intrigued.
      "Well, what I would do is look at both of them and if I couldn't decide, try them both." His smile held shades of wickedness Vanesa did not want to deal with.
      "Avilan, quit." Mikhail lobbed an olive at him. "Personally I prefer Nashen, but then his son is my partner. Some people are put off by the tight bonding between him and Arkay, which might make you feel like Arkay is breathing down your neck waiting for you to slip and touch Nashen's personal field. Vayer is very smooth, very gentle and can be blazingly strong if you wish. His partner, Darya is a great deal more easy going and less likely to make you feel as if you were intruding." He pointed to the people in question.
      "Goodness." Jina looked and zlinned completely overwhelmed. "Um, do I have to make a decision right now?"
      "No" Vayer said gently. "Your choice. If you don't wish to, we won't hold it against you either."
      "Certainly not." Nashen added. "Just as our women choose who they will bear children to, our sharm lords chose who they would like to have transfer with."
      "Like to?" she pounced on the phrase.
      "Sometimes there is a bit of, um, persuasion involved." Avilan grinned, shedding his years with an ease Vanesa knew she would envy very shortly. "Not all transfer partners wish to be caught and sometimes there is a bit of pursuit involved."
      "Too bad you aren't a channel." Jina smiled back.
      "I would be more than willing, as I am barely below Nashen." Avilan's partner joined in. "My name is Karola, by the way."
      "Nice to meet you." Jina eyed her with more than a bit of interest. "Does Avilan come with the package?"
      "If you like." she grinned. "I don't mind at all. However you would most likely not get anything more of it than a bit of exercise."
      "I hadn't planned on anything else." she blushed furiously, but still looked up at them with a great deal of interest.
      "Why don't you come talk with us for a bit, Jina." Karola said, smiling softly. "I would like to know a bit more about you."
      "I'm only a Donor, First, but still." she grimaced, as if having to admit the fact were distasteful, and in these surroundings, Vanesa truly did feel sorry for the fact she felt the necessity to say such a thing.
      "You are a person, Jina." Vanesa told her. "Not a piece of property and certainly not just a Donor. I would certainly hope you have a mind and a will of your own."
      "Well, yes." her lips twitched with a repressed smile. "Put that way, I suppose so, although I did not expect it from a channel."
      "I think there will be a lot of changes made even to Kaon, Jina." She echoed the gesture she had seen so many Donors use and put her hand on Jina's shoulder in support. "There are, I believe, a great many things I must think about, but I don't believe it is right to deny your ability to choose when it is offered. The Techton may say otherwise, but at the moment you are on Kaon property and I am still Sectuib in Kaon."
      Jina's jaw dropped. "I can't believe you just said that."
      "I did. Believe it." She gave Jina's shoulder a delicate squeeze and looked straight into her eyes.
      "Are there any openings in the household?"
      "Later, after transfer." and after I find out more about her background. Vanesa added silently. Jina zlinned promising, but Kaon couldn't afford to take in everyone who came to their doors anymore.
      "And after you look at my records." Jina added, smiling brightly.
      Vanesa laughed, "Yes, after I take a look at them." Very promising.

Below:

      Something was distorting Sevrin's smooth concentration. He focused on the glitch. Ah he checked his internal calendar. So soon? he consulted the physical calender on his desk for conformation. There really was no requirement for him to do so, since as soon as he focused on his body it whined at him like a small abused animal, but he did so all the same. Sevrin was not going to make the mistake of arriving early.
      It was time. After neatly arraigning the books on his desk so he could easily find them when he returned, Sevrin ran his hands over his clothes. He determined they were satisfactory, without unnecessary stains or damage. Even though there were times when he truly did wonder what they looked like and if someone with a truly vile sense of humor ever replaced any of the stark black of the Veiled with any colors in an attempt to make him look the fool.
      At last satisfied, Sevrin braced himself for the monthly ordeal by reminding himself he was at least fortunate to be able to give transfer at all. A few of his fellows were here because they never could. Guided by his own internal sense of direction and by the reflections of his own field off the walls, he came to one of the transfer chambers.
      "You aren't blindfolded." a startlingly young voice gasped.
      "There is no requirement for me to be so." Sevrin looked down at the youngster with a glare of disapproval. "You should not be talking." He took his seat across from her. Placing his arms in the rests, he grasped the restraining bar with a quiver of distaste for the whole procedure.
      "I ... I just got done healing." the voice quavered with need and shame.
      "There is no necessity for shame." he told her, letting his field relax to a state where perhaps she might be willing to end this babble of her own accord. "What use has a corpse for shame or sorrow?" He asked rhetorically.
      "None." her response was as obvious as to have been entirely unnecessary to invoke with words.
      "Silence." His irritation with this snippet of a Sime burned through both of them. Finally he felt her hot forearms land on the backs of his hands. They shivered with nerves. This will never do. Sevrin locked her body with his own mind. Eventually the impulses ran smoothly again and he released her.
      Her laterals made the contacts fairly smoothly, although he had to reach out and adjust one of them so it would truly parallel the other three. Clamping down on the grips, he leaned forward to make the final contact. Her lips were hot and more than a bit damp. You'll learn he sighed, giving into his body's need to rid itself of the selyn he produced.
      The transfer scoured clean his worn and tired nerves, leaving them refreshed and well able to face his return to work. "Thank you." he said, letting her retract her laterals at her own pace in reward.
      She sniffled.
      "Your initiation partner should be here for you shortly." he said even as he heard the door open.
      "I'll take her from you, Slopye." one of the more experienced Lords gave him a mental wink. "Are you certain you do not wish for release?"
      "No, I'll take my release in my rooms this afternoon." he slid to his feet. Not wishing for a partner was odd, but no more so than drinking his starka plain without citron or pepper. When he had first come below, he had tried both men and women, receiving and giving, Simes and Gens. None of it had ever done more for him than the purely mechanical release he could give himself. Idly, he wondered why some people were so insistent on the rather messy business of inserting one body part into another, but it truly was not a problem to concern him.
      His body was being quite irritating in its demands today. There were few things he wished for more than it to simply shut up and leave him alone, but he had determined it was often quicker and easier to cater to it once a month than deal with its whining all the time. "Now if you'll excuse me?" He headed for the door.
      "Certainly, Slopye." Her soft soled shoe slid on the stone and Sevrin knew she had turned away from him, as so many did. Although his was certainly not the most horrific of the defects among the Veiled, it often produced uncanny reactions among the newer of them. Refusing to look at him was one such. He walked out of the room, leaving the two Simes behind with the snicking of the door and without a second thought.

Chapter 5

      Vayer watched the young woman, Vanesa as she played with her brother and his son. He knew a smile was on his face, but doubted too many people knew where it came from.
      "Neat work." His father sat down beside him and Vayer laughed out loud.
      "I never could hide a thing from you, could I?"
      "You almost managed to hide your larity." he snorted, looking amused at it after all this time.
      "That was different." he looked at the people playing in the yard. Vanesa looked far better now, glowing with good health, and not all of it from selyn and exercise. "She is actually rather pretty, don't you think?"
      "I would say so, but then I have always had a taste for female Simes."
      "You just like Simes." Nashen put his arm around Arkay. "Or would you like some privacy?"
      "No, it's fine." Arkay put his hand over Nashen's. "Stay."
      He sat and managed to wiggle his way into Arkay's grasp. "So, what are we talking about?"
      "Politics, what else?" Vayer grinned at them. "Even though some of the means are a bit odd."
      "Don't say you don't enjoy it." Arkay told him. "Even though I am glad to be shed of the worst of it."
      "Sometimes it's better than others, that is certainly true." he sighed and thought of what he had done to Tzer. Now he and Mikhail were almost a close pair as Arkay and Nashen. "Although I am glad he did not take the Veil."
      "That was some of why I pushed things so hard for the ban." Arkay grimaced. "If he were under ban he could be returned to us. Not so if he took the Veil."
      "I thought the Veiled wouldn't take him?" Nashen wasn't always as deeply involved with them as himself and Arkay.
      "They would have, if he were irredeemable." Vayer said with a sigh. "Which is probably why they refused. Sometimes I don't understand what is going on inside those walled off minds."
      "You and me both." Arkay turned his face towards the high pitched shriek of a pair of excited children. The both took off running, leaving Mikhail and his sister to chase after them. Soon all four were playing tag around the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, having a wonderful time. "She no longer sounds like a wounded cow after half a klick."
      "That's mean, Arkay." Nashen glared at him. "How could you say such a thing?"
      "True though." Vayer snorted. "You should have heard her puffing in bed."
      "Vayer!" Nashen squawked.
      He shrugged with a grin, "Sorry, but it's true."
      "Just because it's true doesn't mean you have to say it." He really did look offended.
      "I'm certainly not going to be talking about you in such a fashion." Vayer rested his hand on Nashen's.
      "It's still rude." Nashen looked away.
      "Nashen, sweet." Arkay hugged him. "She has improved tremendously."
      "Yes, now she can go a klick without gasping for breath and groaning." Nashen said with an impish grin.
      "So, what else has to be done before we can go home?" Arkay looked around at their dingy surroundings with a sigh. "I really do not like it here, although the weather certainly does agree with me." It was far, far warmer here than Moskva, by a huge margin.
      "Well, we have to get the trade compacts solid. I don't want to get back a find some sort of loophole where Kaon can bypass our shipping routes to the East. If the tribes get too wily, we could find ourselves shunted into the background on silk and certain dyes. We had to give them cinnamon and cloves, and hopefully they will be content with those and the other products we also buy from them." He ran down his mental inventory. "I really want Russia to get the exclusive on chocolate. Sugar can go either way, hopefully we can split that one fairly even if we don't get the exclusive."
      "It's too bulky." Nashen pointed out. "It is also too fragile. Let the tribes take the lion's share and we can bargain for the coffee Mikhail found."
      "We have the exclusive on the top quality coffee, but that is only a few tons a year. Let's see what else we can find before we commit ourselves to too many markets." He tapped at his lips thoughtfully with a tentacle. "Rubber I want all of. We can't produce enough elastomeric materials for the occult sciences as it stands, much less for consumer goods."
      "Are you sure you want to release that technology?" Arkay asked, narrowing his eyes. The reminder of the steel grip on such things by the Veiled brought Vayer up short.
      "True enough." He thought long and hard. "But if we are careful not to put it in critical uses, only luxury goods, I don't think they will put natural rubber behind the Veil. Vulcanization certainly, but not the soft goods like soles for shoes and waterproofing for gloves."
      "I think you're right. But I don't know if they will want large quantities of it available for the use of the tribes." Arkay pointed out. "If some clever felahin figures out vulcanization on his own, we will have a problem."
      "You are quite right." A shiver of fear ran little cold feet up Vayer's spine. "We'll not pay more than half of the going rate. That should choke the supply to the point where it is strictly used for luxury goods and absolute necessities. We've been getting by quite well without it." Then he thought some more. "I've changed my mind; actually, I think we'll want to keep it entirely occult. With the addition of a superior sealing material, there will no longer be the incentive towards tight workmanship and craftsmanship."
      "Yes, I think so too." Nashen leaned forward. "Although you are going to have a really hard time getting Mikhail out of his running shoes."
      "I know." he looked at Nashen furtively. "Do you think you could manage to edge him towards going barefoot again more?"
      "I'll have Tzer work on it." Nashen winked.
      "Now, what else?" He asked with a heavy sigh.
      "What about all the occult mechanicals and electronics they've been trying to fob off on us, free, no less?" Nashen glared at rooftree, where the power lines entered all the buildings like the leavings of the world's largest and messiest spiders.
      "Absolutely not." Vayer stated. "If we have to, we'll drop them out of the damned airplane on the flight back. The Veiled would not allow it, I will not allow it, and our people will not be subjected to such abomination."
      "Wait a minute Vayer." Arkay said, holding up his hand. "Perhaps we should take some of the best of it. Particularly as we are not paying for it in cash or trade."
      Vayer opened his mouth to interrupt, but Arkay ran right over the top of him.
      "I think we, actually the Veiled, would rather have a way to overhear the communications of the Techton without having to strain, don't you think?" he gave a toothy smile. "Know thy enemy."
      "Indeed." And Vayer knew his smile quite well matched his father's.
     
      Vanesa bounced out of bed. She had been sleeping through the night with an ease that absolutely astonished her. This works. Despite all the hard mental work and stress of expanding Kaon's financial and trading businesses by over twenty times in the space of weeks and not years, which it should have taken, she was ready to go every morning after nearly six hours of sleep, entirely alone. She didn't know if it would hold through turnover, but later today she should find out. After slipping into the rather ragged, loose cotton pants and half top, she laced up her shoes and was ready to go.
      "You should stretch a bit first." Diomid was already at her door. "Here, let me show you."
      She knew he had already put in a couple of miles and shook her head at his bright eyed enthusiasm as he contorted her body in some rather odd positions. "Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?"
      "Yes" his tone brooked no more back talk, even with his hands gently pressing on her lower back to ease her towards her knee.
      "Ow" she complained softly.
      "That is because you are as limber as a brick, Vanesa." a twinkle of sparkling humor was dancing through his field.
      "Your cheer isn't at my discomfort." she looked up at him.
      "You'll find out." he had a grin on his face like a little boy who had a great big secret trying to get out. Playing with Shasha and Kirin had taught Vanesa a great deal about little boys.
      "I will, will I?" her curiosity began eating at her. "Come on, tell."
      "If you can catch me, without augmenting, I'll tell you." and with that he took off running. Still, she was often startled by how fast these Donors could move, so he was well out of arm's reach by the time she realized he was gone. Leaping to her feet, she took off after his mocking laughter. She knew better than to try to augment on the sly. Vanesa had done that once. The sheer and utter humiliation of having Arkay run her around the courtyard at maximum augmentation without her being able to lay a finger on him was as fresh in her mind now as when it had happened.
      Vanesa headed out to the regular track. It was now well worn into the hard earth with the regular use. "Over here." Diomid shouted, well off to her left.
      "What?" she squawked, almost collecting a tree as she got confused about where she was going and where he was.
      "Thought you were going to try to catch me." he danced in place and then took off through the trees.
      "I'm gonna get you if it's the last thing I do!" she shouted, heading after him across country. Soon her thighs burned with the strain of fighting not to trip over all the roots and loose rocks. Even though Diomid stayed just out of reach. Except for those times when he ran ahead with one of those bursts of speed so he could turn and watch her for a bit. One time he even tapped his toe on the ground, as if impatient and she lunged for him, falling flat on her face after tripping on a rock.
      His nageric concern wrapped her in warmth until she got back up, and then he was gone again. I'm gonna get him, I swear it. she would have said this out loud, if should could have gotten the breath for it. Finally they came to an area she recognized. Smiling to herself, she ducked behind a tree and came out right in front of him. "Gotcha!" she shouted.
      Thud. He crashed right into her, as he was looking backwards. Vanesa was too tired to do a great deal more than yelp as Diomid managed to land between her and the ground. His large frame took most of the impact. She was so exhausted she just lay they when the finally came to rest, flat.
      "So you did." he chuckled, hugging her with far more energy than she could dream of having. "My dirty, sweaty, pregnant, little Sime."
     
      She just went limper as soon as he said the words. "I didn't think it would be too much of a surprise, but I thought it would be more than this." he murmured into her hair.
      "It wasn't." she nuzzled at his chest. "I certainly did nothing to prevent it."
      "Come on, we should walk back."
      "But I'm so comfortable right here." her bones seemed to begin melting, despite her panting to catch her breath.
      "Up you go." He stood up, still with his arms wrapped around her. It was like trying to maneuver a wet bath towel. A soaking wet bath towel. "Come on, sweetheart." Diomid set her on her feet. He felt her knees buckle. "You can stand up." he cooed, trying to get her going again.
      "No I can't." she protested.
      "I think you overdid it a bit, little one." he let the faintest trickle of augmentation clear the edge of her exhaustion out. Some of her bones firmed up some and soon she was actually standing on her own two feet, although she was still leaning a bit. "You have to walk a bit." And with a trace of judicious mental shoving and propping up, he got her headed towards home.
      It didn't take long till he was working to keep up with her. "How did you know?" she asked, now almost completely recovered.
      This is what I like to see. Her breathing was now coming easily with her rather long strided walk. "What kind of healer would I be if I couldn't tell you were pregnant?" he teased her gently. Anyone could see the woman was pregnant from a klick away if they knew what to look for. Darya was the one who was sneaky. He had only spotted her for certain at the end of last week.
      "Even I wasn't sure." she said quietly, looking down.
      "I am." he put his hand on her back. "Very sure. A fine, healthy daughter. I take it you wished for a child?" The question was obligatory and he knew it would make her pleased to speak of her daughter.
      "Yes, Diomid." she turned to him with a glorious smile. "Oh yes. A daughter." The wonder in her voice was incredible. "How do you know I am carrying a daughter?" she asked again, suspicious as always.
      "Because I do." he hugged her close.
      "You sound like a Ferris." she snapped, hugging him any ways.
      "I ... I ... I am offended." he made a big show of being about to faint. "Such harsh words. Oh ... dear ... I don't know if I can stand it. I, a poor little Gen being accused of such dastardly behavior." He put his hand to he forehead.
      "Diomid, quit." she laughed. "Really. Such histrionics."
      "Don't you know Gens are supposed to be the ones who are delicate and have to be protected from our baser natures." He fluttered his eyelashes at her. "I mean we're likely to just attack any poor little defenseless Sime we can get our Nagers on. We really can't help it." He gave her the poor little Gen look.
      "How so attack a Sime?" There were times when Vanesa still managed to throw him for a loop.
      "Don't you know it's Gens who want transfer so badly they'll lock up Simes and use them for thrills?" He thought of some of the nests they had run into on their way to Warsaw. It was certainly not to Diomid's taste, but many of them seemed to do well enough.
      "What?" she stopped and stared at him. "Gens have to be protected so Simes won't kill them."
      Stunned to hear her say something Vayer had complained about Rels harping on, Diomid stared right back. "How very, very odd, Vanesa." He took her elbow and they went back to walking. "Truly. Admittedly, a Sime, if they surprise an unprepared Gen badly enough, might be able to get away with not getting killed, but it is a rarity. Gen kills are so much faster than any Sime's draw could ever be, even a renSime's."
      "That sounds an awful lot like the Distecht." she shivered.
      "What is that?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders.
      "The opposite of the Techton. They believe the Gen is responsible for not getting killed." she spat in the dirt by the side of the path. The primitive gesture in a woman so sophisticated was dreadfully odd.
      "No, that is not our way." he said, stopping her and turning her to look at him. "We keep our renGens isolated so they won't kill. RenSimes are too vulnerable to manipulation. We don't expect common people to take the risks of direct transfer." She still looked disbelieving. "What are your kill rates like?"
      She looked to the side. "We don't talk about that."
      "I would bet you don't. There are so many people who have free contact with the opposite larity, I would bet it is staggeringly high." Even as he thought about it he knew the truth of it and shivered himself. "How many?"
      "I don't know." she looked back up at him. "But better than the Distecht, if they even still exist."
      "Sergei, my Demense, has had three in the past five years. One of those I killed in execution for a kill. One was justified and the sharm lord was ascended. We have had more deaths from injuries in the stables in that same time." He let the truth of it ring on his field. "Can you say as much for Kaon?"
      "No" Her jaw clenched in anger. "Then you are saying your way is better."
      "For us, it is." He caressed the tight muscle. "But we have been at it longer than you have. Also, we do not allow killers to try to live. Every single renSime and lord knows, to the very bottom of their soul, that if they kill for any reason other than being told to do so, under a Sharm Lord's orders, they will die, and that death will not be pleasant."
      "But a Sime can't help themselves under the influence of Gen pain."
      "It is always a choice, Vanesa." He said, trying to get through to her. "We do not have the concept of being unable to make that choice." Her alien thought patterns were driving knives of pain and confusion through his own mind. "If the knowledge of retribution is certain enough and immediate enough, even the lowest, stupidest renSime will not violate that line.
      "We took Warsaw with renSime troops. There were renGens running through the ranks in panic." He grabbed her shoulders. "We had a total, for the entire campaign, of three kills. One of which long after the attack." And that one had been a total fluke when a renGen had tried to give direct transfer to a renSime and panicked right on termination.
      "But we can't keep the renSimes under that kind of an iron fist. We can't wall off the renGens to live in near pens below ground. Our ways are not yours." And with that her resistance crumpled. "We are just too different."
      "Then let us go our way and you go yours." He caressed her back as she clung to him. "Our way has its flaws as well, Vanesa. We are bound by tradition and history in ways you could never comprehend or tolerate. You will go to the stars, Vanesa, you or your children. We will simply stay behind and live as we always have."
      "How can you live with no future. There is so much out there to explore and look forward to." she looked up at him, confused and uncertain. "The future is waiting for all of us."
      "No, Vanesa." He smiled back. "It is waiting for you. You are the future of humanity, not us. We are content with things as they are and do not wish for change. Change is for the young, Vanesa."
      "But you aren't that old." She shook her head. "Tzer is not even five years past change over."
      "But he is of the Rus." he smoothed her hair back. "Ask him some time. He will tell you the same thing. It would be a good thing, I think, to have some place where those who are not content may go, but that is not for me to decide."
      "What happens to them now?" Her eyes were wide with terror and her field shocked him with its disturbance.
      "They bow to the yoke or die, Vanesa." His words disturbed her even more. "Let me explain." He said before she could interrupt. "Very, very rarely do we get a one who rebels. RenSime Dorityan was one such. Nashen bent him to the yoke so very smoothly he thanked Nashen for it. We have great patience and skill in such matters."
      "That is awful." She sobbed.
      "It is life, Vanesa. A tree can not grow in the air and a bird can not fly in the sea." He rested his chin on the top of her head. "There are horrible things in life, but necessity dictates we deal with the fates we are given."
      "I hate that." She snapped. "It's wrong. People aren't like that. We are free to chose who we are and what we do."
      "You are, Vanesa, because you were taught that as a truth while you were still very young." Even Diomid, if he were not talented as he was, would not have been able to comprehend what she was talking about. "We are taught differently as children."
      She struggled free of his arms. "I hate you, Diomid, I hate you for crippling children like that. Freedom is what makes life worth while."
      "Stop Vanesa and listen for one last moment." He held out his hand to her.
      "I'm waiting." Her fury wrapped around her like a fire storm ready to break loose.
      "This is something Dorityan said, when he finally accepted Nashen's yoke." He spoke very plainly.
      "Go on." She softened a bit. "I remember your saying he was one of your rebels."
      "He said, "The renSimes desire freedom. They desire to be free from the specters of hunger and attrition. They do not desire the freedom to fear, or to hunger, or to need." I think you should contemplate the nature of freedom, Vanesa." He concluded.
      "I think I will." She turned and walked away from him, deep in thought. Silently, Diomid followed her back, making sure she arrived safely despite her distractions.

Below:

      After dealing with his immediate physical requirements, Sevrin cleaned himself and took up the small lap harp he had brought from home. The wood was silky smooth with the many hours he had spent playing the instrument. He caressed the strings lightly, testing for their tuning. His large standing harp in the corner had a better tone and was far more flexible an instrument, but often when he was unsettled he preferred the one which had once belonged to his mother.
      To this day he could remember the image of her playing it, her violet eyes closed in concentration and her black hair falling loose to the floor beneath her, echoing the lines of the strings of the harp itself. He had sat on the floor with his other siblings. Those older than he had left by the time disaster struck and sometimes he wondered if any of them knew where the harp had gone.
      Its light, sweet tone often didn't quite suit the pieces he had composed to play on it, many of them dark and bitter with his exile from the world above, but as no one had ever heard any of them, there was no harm done. Soon he had the instrument in tune and idly began limbering his fingers. Finally he was ready to begin in earnest, but nothing came to him, so he simply teased more and more complex harmonies out of the strings. Eventually one of his own songs came to him, and he sang into the perpetual darkness which surrounded him.
      "Thee are an exquisite harpist, Sevrin." A voice startled him out of his reverie and his fingers jangled the strings most unmusically. Then he realized he had been called by his birth name.
      "At your will, Master Tzakiran." He bowed his head reverently, stilling the strings. "What may I do for you." The submissive wording of child to master reminded him of his place more firmly with every breath.
      "Thee have begun to question the rightness of what we do, Slopye." His accusation stung all the more for its truthfulness. "It is not permitted."
      "I can not control my heart to such an extent Master." He bowed his head over the harp. "I have tried."
      "It is not for thee to try but to do, Slopye." His voice cracked like a whip. "Do it."
      "If I can't?" He turned his head towards his master's voice.
      "Then thee shall be removed from our company." And all he left behind was the scent of his robes and the fear of being entombed in solid stone until all air was gone.

Chapter 6

      "Where are Vanesa and Vayer?" Mikhail leaned over and asked Tzer. Riana was here, as were Nashen and Arkay, but his sister was supposed to arrive five minutes ago and Mikhail couldn't remember the last time she was late.
      Diomid walked up to him and whispered in his ear. "If it is at all possible, Vanesa should be under my care for the rest of the afternoon."
      "Is there something wrong?" he thought about this afternoon's agenda, realizing there was nothing on it which truly required the Sectuib's signature, although her attendance would have good.
      "Turnover." Diomid's field held far more depth to it than even normal, implying far more than the simple word. Vayer turned to look at him. *Later*
      "I think we can postpone all of this until tomorrow." he looked at the representative of Talash.
      "If your sister is ill, we will certainly be willing to return." the woman's hand tipped toward Nashen. "Although if it is all right with you, we would be discussing some additional ..."
      "No, Miram." Nashen's eyes twinkled. "I think we will simply have some tea and speak of a few, more personal things to the children of Peace." He dropped into Arabic for the final phrase.
      "It would be good to discuss our mutual background." She relented. "If you could show us to some place, a bit more familiar?"
      "Is there one such?" he turned over his hand, showing it empty.
      "There is." she admitted. "It is not for the empty, however." Mikhail had lived in this city for most of his life and hadn't known there was a mosque. Amazed at the ingenuity of the Faithful, he almost wished he could go along.
      "That would be more than pleasant." Arkay bowed his head. "We would appreciate knowing of such a thing, and perhaps there could be some gain to all of us in it."
      "It would be a good thing, I think, for the children of Freedom to know of the home of Peace." Unfortunately all of Mikhail's Arabic had a tendency to sound like something out of a melodrama, but it did get his point across.
      "It has been said a child of Freedom is also a child of Peace. Can such be true?" Miram placed her hand down on the table in a gesture of denial.
      "There is no God but God and Muhammad is his messenger." Mikhail told her, in Arabic.
      "Then I think there will be little necessity for involved negotiations. We will trust you to speak for us with Vanesa." She stood, gathering her robes about her. "My sword master will leave the list of goods with Riana and when we return, we will take bread and salt together. There is now no rush. We will await your decision."
      "Thank you, I do want to find out what has caused her incapacitation. She is so rarely ill, this has come to a complete surprise to me." Mikhail gave back in trade the reason for the problem.
      "Then if she is ill, you should be with your sister and not talking with a withered old caliph who has seen far better days." Miram let Arkay take her arm, leading her in front of Nashen.
      Mikhail turned and hurried from the chamber, trailed by Diomid and Tzer. Finally they made it into the safety of the corridor. Even though he could still hear Riana's chuckle of glee at the list Miram had left her. "Now, what is wrong?" he asked, not stopping in his rush to get to her.
      "Not something critical, but I don't want it to be either." Diomid said, keeping up easily.
      "I'm surprised you didn't simply cancel this meeting when you knew it was going to fall on Vanesa's turnover." Tzer commented.
      "Why would I?" Mikhail looked at him strangely. "She never has stopped work for turnover before."
      "But this is her first, or so I thought." Tzer was not making a great deal of sense.
      "Her first what?" he stopped and looked at him. Tzer's turnover yesterday had gone almost better than Mikhail's. He had been gasping like a landed fish while Tzer cosseted him. It had been down right embarrassing in some ways, but the queasy, unstable feeling had been horrible. Like he couldn't get enough air, and yet had somehow hyperventilated. Tzer had said he would get used to it, and Mikhail certainly hoped so.
      "Her first child." Tzer said, blinking. "Haven't you noticed?"
      "I've noticed Vayer looking like a rooster about to crow half the time, but I figured that was because Darya was pregnant." he took off running. "Why didn't anyone tell me!"
      "Hold on, youngling." Diomid caught the back of his robes. "Easy. Don't spook her. She's a little quivery and I simply wanted to be careful. As soon as this turnover is done, the greatest risk of abortion is over. It won't be for another hour or two, but I wanted to hold her through it."
      "Won't you be going through turnover at the same time?" Mikhail asked, still astonished at the news.
      "Yes, but mine will be almost unnoticeable, as I did not have a complete transfer with your sister." Diomid reassured him. "Your niece is quite healthy and growing well, but I am a paranoid sort and Vanesa was not in the best of health at her conception."
      "A little girl." Mikhail grinned at Tzer. "My sister is going to have a little girl."
      "We all know, lover." Tzer's silver eyes shone. "I thought you did too."
      "No, not at all." he hugged Tzer tightly. "Is there anything we can do?"
      "Certainly." Diomid told them. "We were all going to nest up together for the afternoon, as we are short a Sharm Lord."
      The cold, drizzling rain made this a very pleasant prospect, particularly after a draft wafted down the hallway. "I would love to cuddle up with an excess of nice, warm Simes."
      "My idea exactly." Diomid shivered a bit. "It is much warmer here than at home, but warmer still does not mean warm."
     
      Vanesa looked at Vayer again and then turned away. "What is it, sweet?" Darya asked, quite unexpectedly.
      "How can you be so calm about this, he is your husband?" She snapped.
      "So?" she grinned. "Sauce for the goose ..."
      "Is sauce for the gander." Vayer finished what had to be a set phrase. Talk of saucing animals did nothing for Vanesa's nerves.
      "Which is supposed to mean?" She still couldn't quite bring herself to believe Darya was not in some way put out by her spouse having gotten another woman pregnant.
      "If it is good enough for me, then it is good enough for him." Darya said, putting up her darning. "I think you are simply a bit nervous about your turnover, true?"
      "No" she protested, "I mean, he cheated on you."
      "No" Darya grinned. "How could he have? I was right there."
      "But he's yours." She heard a wail try to muscle into her voice.
      "I might have bejeweled him, but I don't own him." She took Vanesa's hand in her own soft, cool, wonderfully Gen fingers. "Besides, I am thrilled."
      "What?" She choked. "You are pleased?"
      "Yes" Darya squeezed her fingers. "You are a fine woman, one I would have chosen for him myself."
      "You make me sound like a breeding stallion." Vayer laughed, his dark eyes shining with good humor.
      "You have been preening like one for the past two weeks." Darya twitted him.
      "I just hadn't expected you to take advantage of me at the same time." He put his arm around her shoulders, looking down at her with a love that was undeniable. "I thank thee, love of my heart."
      "And I thank thee, my fine, dark stallion." she kissed the end of his nose. "And like that same stallion, breeding two mares does not lessen either one."
      "Then let us see if this stallion, as you insist on calling me, can keep his mares safe." Vayer looked at her. "Would you like?" He offered her his hand again.
      Timidly, she reached for him. True she had wanted a child, a daughter by preference, but still she had expected to be entirely on her own through the gestation.
      "Come here, my little one." Vayer slowly coaxed her under his arm. "There, isn't that better." His warmth felt so good with this chilly air coming in the partially open window. The heady smells of fresh rain were certainly better than the musty, stale air elsewhere, but it was still an effort to stay warm. Then she realized he was stroking her field with his own.
      "I'm not in need yet." she didn't protest too much.
      "But you will be soon and should relax." His voice dropped into a gentle purr.
      "But what about Darya." she stiffened against him, looking to the other woman.
      "Then perhaps we should all go somewhere more comfortable." She gestured towards the nest in the corner.
      "If you are really sure." Vanesa really didn't want to put anyone out. "Besides, I'll have to leave shortly."
      "No" Vayer told her in a voice which would have quieted anyone else.
      "I have work to do." She tried to squirm free, but something was making her muscles not work quite right.
      "Yes, growing a healthy daughter." Darya's dark grey eyes held hers. She couldn't look away. "Do you trust Diomid?"
      "Yes, of course." was her automatic response, then she wondered at it. He has done everything in his power, which is quite substantial, to make all this come about. For a moment she felt a tremor of fear at realizing she had been manipu