But at the moment he had other worries.

"I won't let it happen again," he said in a voice clotted with emotion.She leaned her cheek against his chest. "Won't let what happen?"

Her scent was invading him; the only way to avoid it was to stop breathing, and, he suspected, it would still creep through his pores. "Don't say you missed me."

"Even if it is the truth?"

"It couldn't possibly be the truth," he said tartly, somewhat defensively, because he felt her voice, as well as heard it. Felt it deep down in his bones as if it belonged there, twined with his marrow.

"Why?"

"Because you left me." His voice was tinged with an anguish that seemed freshly bitter.

"Everything with you is black or white."

"If you think that, then you know nothing about me."

"Quite right. That was unfair. On the other hand . . . Isn't it true that you had begun to despise me?"

He looked around the gallery, vainly searching for a way out. Or was he?

"Why have you come?" He wanted to push her away, to maintain a safe distance, but he found much to his dismay that he lacked the strength to do so. "What do you want?"

"You already know. To confirm that Nith Batox.x.x had not killed you."

"And now that you have?"

"You were always far more clever, far more resourceful than he was- smarter, too. It was just that you-"

"Just that I what?"

"Somehow you became a dreamer, when I knew that you were meant to be a leader."

"You knew."

She looked up at him. "I wonder whether you know how much contempt you packed into those two words."

The trouble was he did know.

"You disconnected yourself from the Comradeship at just the time you should have seized power."

"That was your wish for me, your desire."

"You could have made a difference." She looked him in the eye. "My desire was for you, Sahor."

He felt a spear in his side. "It no longer matters."

"Then why did you ask me if I had connected with Nith Immmon?"

"Knowing you, it seemed the logical question to ask."

"Knowing Nith Immmon, it is most illogical." She returned herself to his body, pressing herself against the length of him.

"Somehow, alliances for you always have a s.e.xual component."

"We both know why you asked."

"Let it go." He closed his eyes. "Everything has changed now."

Small sounds from the deep eaves and the windowpanes, a swift, startled spatter, and then the steadier beat of rain. It had been raining the night she had turned away from him, hadn't it?

"Yes. You. Me. The Comradeship. Everything has changed."

"The Comradeship has devolved into political infighters intent on personal gain."

"It has splintered, yes. Without you-without your vision and your strength-the center could not hold."

"My path is my path." "How can you be so d.a.m.nably sure?" "Because I have already made a difference." "How? You have been in hiding." "In ways you could never fathom."

She shook her head, angry at him, impatient with herself for failing to move him. "No matter, because now, something else has ... We need you more than ever."

So that is why she had set her null-wave trap, why she had patiently lain in wait for him to surface, why she had come tonight. He had been wrong: not everything had changed. Her immoderate ambition, for one thing, remained intact. She needed to make her power play. She was no better than the rest of the Comradeship. Something that had been about to be reborn inside him punctured and sank into darkness. She stirred, abruptly restless. "You are silent when you shouldn't be." "I have nothing to say."

"You have not heard me out." "I have heard enough." "You will hear what I have to say!" "Your powerover me ended a long time ago." "If you hate me, that is one thing. But don't let personal-" "Are you serious? Everything with you is personal." "Selfish, contemptuous creature!" At last the outburst, like the first spate of rain. "How can you abandon the Comradeship in crisis? Your species needs you!"

"You are not the least bit convincing."

She sighed, and her wings folded in upon themselves. "I see how it is going to be." That half smile again, hinting at secrets he could only guess at. "We have the Teyj you created." Her arms were crossed over her chest, folded like her wings. "We have your father, Nith Einon."

16

Unforgiven

The SaTrryn were headquartered in a large, rambling villa complex in the far reaches of the eastern district. It was imposing, not to say intimidating, but perhaps the effect was deliberate. The buildings had been magnificently restored to their former l.u.s.ter by a host of Kundalan craftsfolk, much to the invidious talk of the other Bashkir families. It was entirely possible, though, that envy rather than patriotism had given rise to the whisperers. The simple fact was that the SaTrryn had made a fortune in their spice trade with the Rasan Sul, vaulting them to the top tier of Bashkir families. Sornnn SaTrryn's appointment to the post of Prime Factor was merely validation of their status for, in point of fact, they owed their fantastic success to the care and energy Hadinnn SaTrryn had put into cultivating his relationship with the Korrush spice merchants. Sornnn's father hadn't been much of a husband, but he had trained his eldest son well in the intricacies of Korrush lore and etiquette; and it was well that he did, for he died so quickly and prematurely that surely the family business would have foundered had not Sornnn been there to step into his father's position.

However, Hadinnn's presence could still be felt anywhere one cared to look inside the compound. A gargantuan holoportrait of him hanging in the vast echoing front court stared down at Leyytey as she was shown through the imposing polished heartwood double doors. As was the Kundalan tradition, the front court was partially open to the elements and so on this late morning in spring it was filled with sunlight, the sound of twittering gimnopedes, and the scent of neatly planted star-roses. She was shown out into the adjacent garden, to a stone settee beneath a pair of twined sysal trees, and offered a selection of cold drinks by a uniformed attendant. Because it was Kundalan, the settee was more comfortable than it had any right to be. Nevertheless, Leyytey, drink in one hand, did not settle back, but rather perched on the edge. One knee rode up and down, a sign of her nerves. Bad enough she had to see Sornnn SaTrryn, but in the very place where . . .

She caught herself, immediately turned her thoughts elsewhere. The garden had been set square in the middle of the compound. It was planted in the Kundalan manner-that is to say both lushly and formally, with an eye toward the repeating triangles, emblematic of the G.o.ddess Miina, and Leyytey could see how in this setting the repet.i.tions in pathways, flower beds, trees, and other close-sheared foliage created a kind of language that merged with the villas, whose stained-crystal windows echoed the shapes. But though she tried to enjoy the undeniable beauty and harmony of her surroundings, she could not. For one thing, she was being watched by a bronze-and-alloy bust of Had-innn SaTrryn. She took a gulp of her drink, placed the frosted crystal against her forehead, let the coolness of it sink in.

A few moments later, Sornnn SaTrryn emerged from a shadowed doorway and strode down a green-limestone path toward her. She rose to greet him and all at once became conscious of how much time she had spent dressing for this interview. She had chosen leggings of a mimetic fabric that clung to her like a second skin, a belted chain-alloy jerkin she had designed herself over a milk-white blouse of feather-silk, a favorite Kundalan material. High boots clad her small feet in matte black alloy, her delicate ankles, her muscled calves in cream-colored cor hide. Her sifeyn was also of her own design-ion-forged of a chain mail so fine as to be all but invisible.

Her interest in impressing him so shocked her that when Sornnn greeted her she stumbled over her response. To his credit, he made no comment. Instead, he sat beside her on the stone settee.

"Are you enjoying the drink?"

"Yes. Very much." She could not remember whether she was, but she could not think of what else to say.

"It's iced gibta, a concentrated form of ba'du. From the Korrush. Refreshing, isn't it?"Leyytey took a sip and agreed that it was. She peered at Sornnn over the rim. She had not seen him for some time, so maybe she was mistaken, but he looked thinner, more haggard than she remembered.

He sat very still. She could see his large eyes watching her, steady as two beacons in the night.

"Thank you for agreeing to this arrangement," he said.

"You are paying me a mountain of coinage."

"You know what I mean. It cannot be easy dealing with Pack-Commander Dacce."

Immediately her eyes sparked and her voice got flinty. "I am not afraid of him, if that is what you mean."

"You misunderstand me, Leyytey. I meant... He is a difficult Kha-gggun to understand."

"You don't seem to have any problem understanding him," she said tartly. But it wasn't Sornnn she was angry with, and she knew it.

"That is because I am not in love with him."

She looked away and felt ashamed of being so transparent. "He came back, of course, after that first night. He bought me presents. I took him to see Miirlin. In his mind, he is being kind and loving. To me, it is all brittle and false. It's perfectly clear what he wants."

Responding to her distress, he said, "It's all right, we all do foolish things."

"I hate this," she said more vehemently than she had intended.

"You do not have to go through with it."

She shook her head. "That is not what I mean. I feel as if I know nothing about love."

He laughed, and the sad note it struck made her turn back to him.

"Oh, when it comes to love I confess I know less than nothing!" he exclaimed. "Love is as mysterious to me as the Gyrgon."

Hearing his words, she looked at him as if for the first time, and she saw through her fear and her memories and realized that he was as lost as she was. He, the scion of the SaTrryn! And she knew with a certainty that floored her that some profound trauma had befallen him, for he bore the scar as b.l.o.o.d.y, as livid as if it had happened an hour ago.

"I apologize, anyway," he said. "Please forgive me."

Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. She did not know how to respond.

"We have much to discuss and formal doc.u.ments to sign," he said as he rose. "The midday meal is prepared. Will you join me?"

What could she say? That she wanted nothing more from the day than to be freed from this grim place, that she could no longer bear Hadinnn SaTrryn's accusatory eyes on her, that she was so afraid of letting her father down that she dare not leave, dare not even give Sornnn SaTrryn a reason to suspect that she knew- Why hadn't she said something before? Because doubtless her life would have been in jeopardy the moment she opened her mouth. Her father would not have been able to save her; no one could have.

And so she had chosen to say nothing, she had chosen to push it away, convince herself that it had happened to someone else. But she had not forgotten, and now that she was here in the SaTrryn compound, now that she was in the company of the oh-so-charming, the oh-so-sad son, she seemed to be awakening from a dream. It had not happened to some other Tuskugggun, it had happened to her. All the self-deception was erupting to the surface to drag her down.

"Leyytey, are you all right?"

Sornnn had a look of concern on his face.

"You're flushed and sweating. Are you ill?"

"No, I-" She put a trembling hand to her brow. N'Luuura take it, he was right. Her skin felt hot and clammy.

"Here, sit down," he said, indicating the stone settee.

"I do not require rest," she said sharply. "I am neither a weakling nor a child."

He nodded. "Of course not. I meant no offense."

He was so polite he set her teeth on edge, mainly because she had no reason to trust his sincerity.

Leyytey was something of an anomaly among Tuskugggun. She was revered by Khagggun (and evensome Bashkir) for what she did even while she was secretly demeaned for what she was. How many of her warrior clients spoke of wanting to bed her in the crudest possible terms, just as if she were a common Looorm. Perversely, her very expertise spurred their libidos like the most potent aphrodisiac.

She was weary of being mentally undressed by every male with whom she came in contact. Just as she was weary of being used and tossed aside by the one Khagggun she loved.

Not that she necessarily thought that of Sornnn. In fact, by the time they began the midday meal she realized that she could not quite figure out what he was about, apart from obviously wanting to impress her. If he'd had his way, they would have dined in the enormous porphyry-clad second-floor hall of the villa that lay directly in front of the bust of Hadinnn SaTrryn. Rather than impressing her, its gargantuan size had the effect of making her feel anxious, and she asked if they could move to the lone table on the sun-dappled balcony. It was small, the thick disk of its top a lovely intarsia of perhaps a half dozen woods. It was only after she was already seated on a spiral-heartwood chair that she realized that she had a perfect view of that accursed bust. Hadinnn SaTrryn's accusatory stare had locked onto her like a photon-powered weapon. She lost her appet.i.te but she kept on eating anyway, slowly, methodically, grimly so that Sornnn would not ask her again if she was all right. Because the truth was she was not all right. Not by a long shot. Sitting there across from Hadinnn's son, she was consumed with guilt and did not know what to do about it.

On the other hand, Sornnn made certain that she did not have much time to think about it, since he regaled her with stories about his beloved Korrush, all of which she found fascinating. It made her realize that she had never been outside the gates of Axis Tyr, had never really considered why she would want to. Sornnn's tales made her think otherwise.

"You understand that I will need to see these Rasan Sul myself," she said, "before I can make weapons for them. I will need to a.s.sess their size and strength as well as the manner in which they do battle."

He nodded. "That can be easily arranged. I will take you myself."

His intense eyes rested on her and, once again, she wondered what he really wanted.

When the plates were cleared away, he said, "I need you to tell me the truth about something."

"Of course. If I can."

He gave her a thin smile. "Spoken like a Khagggun."

She felt herself flush at the compliment. No one had ever said that to her before and meant it. She felt that in this he was sincere. He had been hurt too badly; he was not interested in bedding her.

"What is it you want to know?" she urged him, because suddenly she was eager to find out what was on his mind.

"How do you feel about using him?"

She knew he meant Teww Dacce. "I don't know." And then, after a short pause: "You said you wanted me to be honest."

He sat back and pursed his lips. "This must be very difficult for you."

Her innate anger flared once more. "Would you say that if I really was a Khagggun?"

"Absolutely."

She sat forward, put her elbows on the table. "Now I need you to tell the truth."