"Unwise. What goes on must come off."

Kith watched the commander with surprise as the violence of Chapel's emotion struck him like a relentless riptide. Why would this stranger feel so strongly about his sister's pain, he wondered. Kith had been puzzled by it from the outset, but it came stronger and stronger, it seemed, with every pa.s.sing mile. Why would this strange warrior care so much for a woman he no doubt considered little better than a savage? All of the men, in fact, displayed a great level of concern for her well-being. Men in Kith's world gave very little consideration to females. It was different in the temple, of course, because the women tended to be more powerful than the men; but in the village, women were meant for breeding, s.e.x, and household management. One woman was as good as another, and emotions were rarely a factor. Living in a wilderness village was a hard existence, and there was little time for soft emotions. It made Kith wonder what kind of world these men came from. What kind of world used women as soldiers? What was truly startling was that the woman soldier seemed the least inclined of them all to care for the pain of another. It confused Kith because all the women he knew were extraordinarily compelled to be nurturing. This anomaly mystified him.

"Ravenna," Bronse whispered as he leaned over her shoulder from behind to speak softly to her. It was an instant intimacy, one that flew in the faces of the onlookers around them, narrowing the world to just the two of them. Her pain, his concern. Her grat.i.tude, his empathy. "The choice is yours," he said quietly, his fingertips tenderly sliding over her silky hair, wishing it could soothe her somehow. "You are bleeding. We can bandage you to stop the bleeding, but it will mean a great deal of pain later on when the bandages have to come off. I cannot guarantee that our medic will be able to use any more pain medication by the time we get to him. Even as advanced as our medicaments are, too much can cause harm."

"And if we don't bandage them?"

"Blood loss. The shirt will stick to your skin. Dirt and debris might further the infection."

"Bandages then. Ophelia will take care of the rest. We just need to get there."

Bronse didn't waste her energy or fort.i.tude with arguments. He accepted her choice and nodded to Lasher to proceed. But even as he began to unfurl reams of sterile cloth and hold it over her back, Lasher hesitated.

"Bronse, I need ... I won't get the pressure I need to staunch the bleeding unless I wrap her full around."

"Ender, Justice, Kith ... take a walk," Bronse ordered instantly without looking up at them. "Kith, help them find fresh water and edible plants. We could use something to eat, and I'd rather save rations if there are natural resources close by."

"Hey, she's my sister," Kith argued, not liking the idea of leaving her alone with them.

"And I'm sure she'd rather not be stripped in front of her younger brother," Bronse retorted.

"Oh, and strangers are okay?" Kith snapped.

"Kith." Ravenna spoke up gently before Bronse could escalate the argument. "Please do as he asks. I'll be fine. Stop arguing. Learn to trust what you feel."

Kith flushed, lowering his face as his ears turned pink. She was right. His empathy would tell him if they meant her harm, and it was obvious that they didn't. Bronse had antic.i.p.ated Ravenna's feelings about being stripped in front of him, and it bothered Kith that, after so short an acquaintance, this stranger could know her better than he did.

Everything about these soldiers, especially their leader, disoriented Kith. He knew they honestly wished to help them survive, but he felt an elemental fear every time he looked at or into Bronse. Something about this man alarmed him. Kith was bewildered not just by the strangeness of Chapel's feelings toward Ravenna, but her equally strange impulses toward him. Being an empath all of his life had taught Kith a great deal about listening to the feelings from within. Within himself and within others. Emotions shifted fast and often, and for an empath, the targets emitting them shifted just as fast. Kith had learned that he was inherently able to sift through all of that and focus on what was important. It was a skill that he had consciously refined as he had grown and mastered himself. Kith believed that it was safe to say he'd fallen into a very comfortable state of being, where things ebbed and flowed around him in a specific way that he was used to.

Until now.

When Bronse and Ravenna came close to each other, it was as though the miasma of emotions that always swam around Kith was swept back by a torrential rain of feelings that were demanding someone's-anyone's-attention. It left Kith raw with intensity and confusion, and he could not understand why, or why he should feel so desperately worried about leaving this hard warrior alone with his sister. She was everything opposite to what he was. Too gentle and too naive in certain respects to be trusted in the hands of a man who bit off orders and decisions about people's lives based on some logical formula that he seemed to have stored in his head.

But Kith had never countermanded Rave's wishes, and he would not start now. She was the eldest in the family and by far the wisest. With his tense hands closed into fists, he turned and led the other two soldiers toward the sound of water.

Bronse slowly walked around the boulder that Rave was seated on and unhurriedly crouched down in front of her until they were eye to eye.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile that was enigmatic but warmed his periwinkle eyes.

"You keep saying that," she told him, her smile far more tremulous. She blinked and tried to turn her face away when the gleam of tears filled her topaz eyes.

"Hey, hey now," he soothed sympathetically, reaching to cup her cheek and turn her face back to look at him. "It will be okay. I promise you. I will keep you safe."

"I know," she said with absolute faith in her gentle voice. "Please. Let's just hurry."

He nodded. He reached forward to touch her shoulders, which were swelled and red from the secondary infection, and caught what remained of the small sleeves of her gown in his fingers. Gingerly, keeping his eyes on hers, he inched the tattered material down her arms. She slid her wrists and forearms free when the material fell to her waist. Shyly, she raised awkward arms to cover her bared b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her cheeks flushed, and she couldn't keep his gaze.

"Ravenna, I need you to hold your hair and raise your arms," Lasher instructed, "if you can. Bronse, if you take the roll when I pa.s.s it forward, it will keep me from having to reach around her and b.u.mping into her raw skin."

"Okay," Bronse said with far more efficient neutrality than he actually felt. It infuriated him that she was so injured and so in need of him, and yet all he could do was think about how d.a.m.n attractive she was, how smooth and soft her skin looked. She seemed fragile, and he saw her trembling. Why did he want so badly to sweep her into his arms and kiss her into comfort, gently and with care? He would serve her better helping Lasher bind her, not smearing her with ... with useless physical affections.

Ravenna wrapped the tousled sheaf of her hair twice around her wrist before grasping it in her fingers. The rising sun shimmered through the mussed ma.s.s, giving it golden lights as well as deeper amber ones. Again a surging need to touch it washed through Bronse. To touch it, to touch her, any kind of contact, his mind and body cried desperately. Why? d.a.m.n it all, why was he so plagued by this need? Disgusted with himself for his mental fancies, Bronse strove for competence as Ravenna raised her arms and the secured hair over her head and Lasher began to pa.s.s the sterile fabric to him. Bronse made it through three revolutions of winding fabric before he actually allowed himself to look at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he laid the fabric over the swells of feminine flesh.

The vicious curse exploded out of him before he even knew it was forming.

His eyes widened with outrage and unspeakable fury when he saw the mean fingerprints bruised onto her precious skin. Both b.r.e.a.s.t.s were marred with these bruises, as well as angry scratches flared with inflammation because the nails on the ends of the offending fingers had been sharp and dirty. She had been callously manhandled, and the evidence of it was stamped into her skin for him to see.

"By all that is cursed and holy," he swore vehemently, reaching out to brush his knuckles over the blue and black marks near her areola. "Is there much pain?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely.

He wanted to ask who had done it. Oh, he knew it was the guards, but he would elicit a description if he could and go back to hunt the specific b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for himself, and d.a.m.n the danger. Still, he knew he could not. He would have to satisfy himself knowing he had gotten her away from them, that she'd be safe with him from now on.

When she didn't answer, he looked up at her. Her face was flushed a furious rose color, and she wasn't looking at him. He searched for tears, but her averted eyes were clear and dry, only her rapid breath giving him any hint of her emotion.

"Lasher, she has some angry bruising," he said softly, running his thumb ever so gently across the marks. "Do you have a reabsorption patch? Tight bandages will hurt if we-"

"Absolutely. Just a sec," Lasher said, turning to rummage in his kit.

But Bronse was not paying him any attention. He had suddenly become aware of the soft, breathless gasp that Ravenna uttered, and the immediate reaction to follow. The nipple close to his caressing thumb tightened and formed itself into a thrusting point, and a ripple of goose-flesh p.r.i.c.kled beneath his fingertips and palm where they rested artlessly against her. Bronse watched the reaction with the same fascination as one would watch the inevitable rush of an approaching avalanche. Awe at the sheer magnificence of how natural and beautiful it was sent a thrill of body-rocking excitement completely through him. Then came the realization that if he didn't move, and move fast, all h.e.l.l would break loose and sheer survival would become an issue.

Bronse jerked away from her as if he'd been stabbed through his hand, awkwardly staggering back as he gained his feet, which, for some reason, refused to work with their usual dexterity. He was dimly aware of Lasher looking at him in surprise and confusion from over her shoulder, and he almost laughed at how well his second's expression reflected his own feelings of the moment.

"I need to-"

It was all he said before executing an about-face and walking off. Lasher watched him go with a sense of disbelief and consternation. "Now what the h.e.l.l got into him?" he asked aloud. His patient didn't answer, keeping her arms raised and her face averted as he moved around her to apply the reabsorption patch to the s.p.a.ce just under the first bandage wrapping. Then with her help he finished covering the bleeding wounds. It was awkward and would have been far easier with Bronse's help. Shaking his head, Lasher grimly noted the bruises on Ravenna's b.r.e.a.s.t.s and wondered if Bronse had left to cover a bout of temper. His commander had a well-defined sense of honor, and evidence of defilement such as this would be just the sort of thing to p.i.s.s him off beyond control for a moment.

Lasher helped Ravenna tie off her dress at her waist so the skirt remained in place, and then he helped her ease back into Bronse's shirt. He took a deep breath and met her troubled gaze firmly as he b.u.t.toned it for her.

"There is only about sixty minutes' worth of medication in the block. The topical and bandages will help, but not much. I'm going to be watching you. Please ... please let us narc you when it gets to be too much. If for nothing else than your brother will have an apoplexy if he sees you hurting. Trust us, we can take care of whatever comes up. Besides, I think you know that you ... you have an effect on my commander. Don't be a distraction for him. He needs to focus on keeping everyone safe, not on worrying about your pain."

"How long will I be out?"

"I'll give you a patch. It will let me be able to take it off you at whim, and you'll wake in fifteen to twenty minutes max. Or sooner, if I'm guessing your pain level right."

"Okay. Lasher ... I ..."

She broke off and looked dead and deep into his very light jade eyes, their unusual specks of black an instant fascination. Ravenna had only meant to express her thanks to him. She was so grateful for all of his care and all of his acceptance. She knew how far above and beyond they were all going strictly for her benefit and to see her safe. She was a stranger. They cared because they cared about Bronse's wishes, but she sensed that for Lasher and Ender it meant more to them than just orders. Lasher's concern went beyond his love for his commander. It was touching and a rare blessing in her life and she wished to acknowledge that.

But the words suddenly wouldn't come. She looked up into his eyes and was swept into that sensation of chill that washed down the back of her neck and demanded her attention. She suddenly reached out for him. Lasher jolted, grabbing her forearms as she seized him by the back of his neck and laid a hand over his heart, physically fishing past the weight of his vest in order to find the flat span of his pectoral muscle through his shirt. She drew him forward with surprising strength, and he went to pry her hands off his chest in discomfited reflex.

Her eyes flashed open, the topaz glowing with fierce purpose as they looked up at him through her lashes, and he found himself paralyzed by her gaze. She looked like a hunting cat fixed on a target, and he felt like he had just become lunch. Then her whole body jerked and she gasped. Her focus blurred, then softened, and she seemed to mentally disappear from the close clutch they shared.

"Masin," she said quietly, using his given name and chilling him to the bone because he couldn't remember anyone having used it in front of her. "Masin, you must be careful. Bronse needs you. There are those who plot against him and wish him dead."

"I ... I know," he found himself saying in spite of himself. But how did she know?

"A woman will come to you," she continued as if he'd never spoken. "She comes under the guise of neutrality or friendship. But be warned, she seeks to remove you from the equation. She will strip Bronse of his armor. You, Masin. You are his armor."

And just as suddenly, Ravenna released him, sagging back as she shook from head to toe, as if she had exerted herself mightily. Lasher instinctively surged away, up to his feet, bracing his legs and body defensively as his eyes widened with a dozen rushing emotions and ten times as many thoughts.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" he demanded fiercely.

"A gift," she said shakily, shivering. "My gift to you. Do not ignore it. Please ..." The plain fear in her tone grabbed at Lasher's guts with icy fingers of dread and foreboding.

And Lasher suddenly knew where Bronse's premonitions had come from.

Lasher waited until the others came back before he marched off in search of their wayward commander. After ordering the crew to eat and rest, he followed Bronse's path with a quick, determined stride. He didn't know exactly what was going on around here, but he was about to find out. Bronse Chapel never held out on him. Never. Lasher had functioned smoothly for ten years based on that single belief. Granted, Bronse wasn't required to share everything. As commander he often received orders meant only for him. Bronse simply chose to share them with his second.

But Lasher had begun to suspect that there were two different missions on Bronse's mind. It was the only explanation for what they were trying to juggle. Four soldiers in a ma.s.sive hostile environment with not one but two enemies searching them out. Not only that, they were trekking around with civilians, one of whom was severely wounded.

Lasher followed Bronse's faint track until it took him to the edge of a small creek. His commander was crouched down on his haunches, pulling water over his head. He swept his fingers through his hair, spiking it up, and then reached for more water to throw against his face, washing away sand and dust, something they didn't usually do until they were safe at base. Dirt coating the skin helped with camouflage.

Shaking his head, Lasher approached Chapel with a clear bite in his step. "You want to tell me what the h.e.l.l is going on around here?" he snapped.

Bronse paused, shook water off his hands, and then slowly rose to his full height. "I'm sorry," he said coldly, "but would you care to repeat that question?"

Lasher felt the whip in those flatly spoken words, and he winced inwardly.

"Do you want to tell me what the h.e.l.l is going on around here, sir?" Lasher corrected himself, adding respect to his frustration but refusing to completely play games of rank. "Bronse, I need to know what you're thinking. I know you know I'll follow any order you give me short of dancing naked on the IM tarmac at midmorning, but I need to understand those orders and their motivations. That's how we've always worked. After ten years, that's what I need in order to function at my best. And let me tell ya, functioning below par is not a good thing in this situation, if you hadn't noticed.

"Bronse, that woman just grabbed hold of me and ... and told me my fortune! And it was a b.l.o.o.d.y frightening one at that. Why do I think that she's responsible for all these gut feelings you've had over the past few days? Why do I feel like you knew she was going to be here on this planet? She and the kid aren't acting the least surprised that a troop of ETF soldiers just broke them out of prison. You've never treated me like an idiot before, and you d.a.m.n well better not start now, sir!"

Bronse waited for several beats while Lasher caught his breath and calmed down enough to hear past what was no doubt the ma.s.sive roaring of his blood pressure in his ears.

"I have never and will never treat you like an idiot. I wanted to explain, but we've been pressed for time," Bronse said efficiently. "As far as what Ravenna can do, you now know as much as I do. She seems to see the future. She told me mine too; that was how I knew we needed to stick together."

"But you'd never met-"

"In a dream. I met her in a dream. Several of them, I think. I don't remember all of them. I would dream her telling me the prophecy, and it would sublimate into those gut feelings I was plagued with. I didn't know until after we talked about it that night. I was a little afraid to tell you any more than that. I wasn't sure I wasn't going nuts, and I didn't want you or the crew feeling that you couldn't trust me.

"Don't ask me to make sense of it because neither one of us will be able to. We have no experience in this. It wasn't till I busted into that cell that I was sure she was real and not a figment of my imagination. Not until then did I realize I wasn't going out of my mind. I'm sorry, but after that I couldn't leave her behind to suffer. I felt her suffering before we got here. I knew they'd whipped the h.e.l.l out of her." Bronse swore softly, brushing his hand through his hair in agitation. "That's it. That's all I know. You know everything else. I'm learning as I go just like you are. I ... I'm sorry I took her out of there for personal reasons. It was ... I know it was wrong, and it was worse not to tell you."

"If you're going to endanger the crew for your personal reasons, Bronse, don't you think they deserve to know that? h.e.l.l, don't you think I need to know? I mean, I could guess just by the way you look at her, for the Great Being's sake!"

"I don't ... I can't...," Bronse protested helplessly.

"Oh, please!" Lasher chuckled and shook his head with amazement. "Chapel, I don't need any more explanations, but you better not sit there and deny you look at that woman like a catabee looks at pole cherries. You would gorge yourself on her until you popped, too, and it's written all over you."

"Lasher, d.a.m.n you," Bronse grumbled without enthusiasm, "you're a real b.a.s.t.a.r.d sometimes."

"An intuitive b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"An intuitive pain in my a.s.s," Bronse corrected harshly. "Now, are you done grilling me? I don't like leaving them alone like this."

"I'll be done when you promise me no more secrets on this trip."

"I can promise you that I will make my best effort to keep you fully apprised of our situation at all times. How's that?"

"Good enough."

They calmed for several beats, each man silent as they began to walk back toward the others.

"Do you want to tell me why you took off before?" Lasher asked him.

Bronse laughed in a short, sharp burst. "That, my friend, is a discussion we will never have. But I am curious about what Ravenna told you. She had a premonition?"

"If that was what that was. She grabbed hold of my neck and chest. She's lucky I didn't clock her," Lasher said with a grin. "For a minute there, though, I thought she was coming on to me, so I decided hitting her would be contrary to promoting romance."

"Nice. Cut to the chase, smart-a.s.s," Bronse said dryly. But then, all lightness flew from Lasher's expression, and Bronze had a sick feeling in his gut that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.

"She talked about the attempts on your life. That they aren't over. That I'm meant to protect you. She said that someone ... some woman I might ordinarily trust, will try to take me out so I can't be there for you."

"Well ... that really sucks," the commander understated. "What the h.e.l.l is going on around here? I want to know just exactly what I did to deserve this. There must be something. Maybe some information I have that I don't realize I have."

"I think we'd better find out. Fast would be nice. I'd hate to think I'd be afraid to get laid until we do." Lasher smirked at Bronse.

"You know, I'm so glad my impending homicide is such a source of humor for you," Bronse said.

"Hey, it's my impending homicide I'm talking about. But seriously," Lasher's tone switched to suit, "do you think the others are in danger in the same way?"

"I think we are all expendable. JuJuren has more than proven that. I also think the team has figured that out by now."

"You're talking in the field. I have a feeling I'm looking at danger during downtime. Off-mission. It will be the next step. If they can't kill us on-mission, they'll try for off."

"Then we better hope that Trick has some information when we get back. I have no intention of dodging any laser fire that I'm not already being paid to dodge."

"Copy that," Lasher agreed enthusiastically.

"But you're right. Tell the others to consider themselves targets until otherwise noted."

When Bronse stepped into the makeshift rest stop, his eyes tracked to Ravenna like magnets to metal. She was already looking at him, but it didn't last long. Color stained her cheeks, and she turned her face away. Bronse felt a surge of excitement in response. He'd almost convinced himself that he had been mistaken; that he had, through some perversion of his own desert-baked brain, turned an innocently caught chill into some kind of reaction of arousal because of the touch of his hand. But her blushing innocence told him she had indeed felt much more than a chill in that moment.

The very concept baffled the h.e.l.l out of him. He had meant nothing by the touch, he was certain. Not only that, he'd been tending her for bruises left by cruel, abusive men. How could she possibly find the touch of any man anything but repulsive at this point? And how was he going to keep his hands off her when her blushes and blatantly curious topaz eyes kept following him as he moved? By all that was holy, she could tempt a saint to reconsider.

She was leaning a shoulder against her brother, nibbling at a piece of local fruit, but she was all eyes for him. And he for her, he realized, as he caught himself staring at her.

He realized then that he couldn't carry her again. He could not be that close and concentrate on their lives and safety. The entire trek had been spent in a daze of thoughts that had no place in his mind during such a dangerous situation. Thankfully, everyone else was on guard, but it was an untenable state of mind for him to be in. Too many lives were at stake.

"Ender, Lasher," he broadcasted as he strode firmly into their midst. "Carry the girl. Justice, take point. I'll take the rear. Kith, stay between us and keep your eyes peeled. Tell Justice where she's going. Let's move. We're working against the clock."

His eyes drifted to Ravenna before he could help it. Less than an hour of pain block. Then what? A litter, he supposed, would be best. He would have to keep his eyes peeled for materials to improvise with. d.a.m.n it all, why did he want to go over there and touch her so badly? Brush back that infernally glorious hair; touch just one fingertip to the creamy soft cheek and its perfect smooth tan.

Bronse reached blindly for the rifle that Lasher handed off to him. He automatically checked the weapon, the routine soothing him and refocusing his attention. Within five minutes they were off again. He concentrated on the terrain, ignoring the back of the girl riding between the men in front of him.

Ravenna was swimming in a sea of misery. She had pulled Kith aside earlier and told him that, no matter how much he felt her pain, he was not to betray her. If she could bear it, so could he. He had gotten that stubborn tilt to his chin and said of course he could bear it, but why should she? It was simple. They would move faster, and she would be aware enough to help them if they needed it. The danger had not pa.s.sed. She was sure of it. Oh, danger was following them, of course. Searching for them. She knew that. But that was behind them. Pretty far behind them if she was sensing it right. No. This danger lay before them.

The forest had become thick and blindingly dense around them. She knew they were headed the right way, just as Kith did, but nothing was yet familiar to them. It was exhausting to look for just one familiar branch or path that would indicate that home could not be too much farther ahead. The only thing that these branches seemed to do was hide unknown dangers. Great beasts lived in the wild places of the wilderness. Even the villages weren't always safe, though the forest creatures tended to stay clear of settled places.

So she gritted her teeth, breathed as evenly as possible, and forced down any and all sounds of pain. She used her hair to shade her face from the grimaces she could not resist, keeping Lasher, at least, unaware. Ender had already caught her silent agony twice, but he seemed to understand her determination to stay in charge of herself. Sweat was soaking through her clothes, and the terrain was beginning to blur, but she had made it well past the time that Lasher had given her for the block to wear off. He had asked after her health several times, and by some miracle she had convinced him that the topical and bandages had made all the difference.