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  “Them, Major?”

  Caught in that way of thinking once more, he winced inwardly. And realized somewhat belatedly that Davorin hadn’t directly answered anything. And yet Paledan was as certain as he could be that he was right.

  Davorin smiled as if he understood, but only said, “I’m told you’ve re­gained some feeling.”

  “I believe so.” He gave the man a pointed look. “But I am still far too weak to do anything.”

  “Which you would likely say were it true or not,” Davorin said, with that same unconcerned smile. Was he so convinced he was harmless?

  Is he not right?

  With a grimace he acknowledged the truth. “Yes. But in this case, it happens to be true just now.”

  “Then in that case . . . you have visitors.”

  Startled, his gaze narrowed. Davorin stood, and made a motion toward the door—or whatever was really in the place where the imagined door stood. Two small figures darted in. He stared in shock as the two youngest Davorins came to a halt next to the cot—or whatever it was—he lay on.

  “You are—” the girl began.

  “Awake.”

  “I am,” he said, flicking a glance at their brother, who remained silent, but Paledan sensed he was ready to move at the slightest sign they might be in danger.

  “We are glad you—”

  “Did not die.”

  “I am not so certain of that yet,” he said dryly.

  The boy’s brow furrowed. “But is not—”

  “Life always—”

  “Better?”

  “I’m told it depends on what life consists of.”

  The girl gave a short laugh. It was a good sound. And she, he thought yet again, would have been the one destroyed on his world.

  “That sounds like—” she began.

  “The Spirit,” the boy finished.

  He raised a brow at them. “You mean your mother?”

  “She is—”

  “We suppose, but—”

  “She has been—”

  “Gone a very—”

  “Long time.”

  “We were—”

  “Just children.”

  He laughed, he couldn’t seem to help it. He wondered for a moment if this odd loss of his control of such emotions was part of his injury, but only for a moment, for if he had learned anything when dealing with these two it was that they required full attention.

  “And what are you now?”

  They both drew themselves up.

  “We are—”

  “Sentinels. And we—”

  “Fight with—”

  “The others.”

  “It is just our way—”

  “Is a little—”

  “Different.”

  “I’m certain that it is,” he said, smothering another laugh. And he real­ized with a little jolt that he had truly missed talking to these two. Or perhaps listening to them talk. “And effective, too, I’m sure.”

  The two exchanged a glance and a grin, which made him wonder just what problems could be attributed to them. Probably more than the Coalition would ever realize or believe. But he would.

  Their brother cleared his throat. They glanced quickly at him and nodded. In unison. Then turned back to him.

  “We have—”

  “To go—”

  “Drake said—”

  “We could not—”

  “Stay long—”

  “Because you need—”

  “Rest. We just—”

  “Wanted to—”

  “Say we are glad—”

  “You’re not dead.”

  “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say. As the duo scampered out, he shifted his gaze to Davorin. “You let them come.”

  With a shrug, he said, “They very much wanted to see you, that you were truly alive still. They have been denied too much in this life, and this seemed a small enough wish to grant. Although I suppose,” he said, looking thoughtful, “I should have asked you first.”

  Paledan stared at him, then shook his head slowly. “I am at your mercy. Why would you care what I wished?”

  “Were you, say, Jakel, or the governor, or some other Coalition boot­licker, I would not.” He held his gaze steadily. “Besides, there were many times when you had the opportunity to harm the twins, and a few when anyone else in your uniform would likely have executed them.”

  He knew this was true. And he could not really explain why he had not.

  “They . . . interest me. They are clever. Bright. And utterly fearless.”

  “They are. Sometimes to my dismay.”

  “It is . . . a credit to your raising of them.”

  Davorin looked at him quizzically. “You show an understanding of something you never experienced. As adult, or child.”

  “I have never flown, either.”

  The man smiled widely at that. “And yet you designed a near flawless and very adaptable aircraft.”

  He could not understand why the words so pleased him. He’d received approval from the highest ranking flight officers in the Coalition, and it had never caused this kind of reaction in him.

  “I would give much to meet the person responsible for those adapta­tions.”

  “Perhaps you already have.”

  “If you’re going to tell me your mother is also an aircraft designer—”

  He broke off as Davorin laughed. “She is many, many things, but not that.”

  “The twins . . . they do not accept her?”

  “They have not yet decided, I think. She was, as they said, gone for a very long time. And they were very young when she left us.”

  He noted how evenly the man spoke of this, tried to reconcile this with what he knew of the closeness of family ties on this world.

  “But you have . . .”

  “Reached an understanding,” Davorin said. “And now I must leave you, Major, to someone else’s care.” He turned to go, likely to signal another guard to enter.

  “Attack plans to make?” Paledan asked.

  Davorin turned back. “It would seem a wise thing, would it not? To attack while their commander is absent?”

  Paledan shrugged, not even trying to deny it. “It is what I would do.”

  “Given your record, then, I suppose I must seriously consider it. Rest well, Major.”

  And then he was gone, leaving Paledan to ponder the rather amazing turn his life had taken.

  Chapter 28

  “HE WILL BE MOBILE very soon, I think,” Drake said. “I’ve told the watch to be aware.”

  Iolana nodded. “I am not surprised, but have you some particular reason for thinking it is imminent?”

  “He shrugged. And didn’t seem to realize. And twice I saw his legs move. I do not think it was conscious, though. He was distracted by the twins.”

  “That will do it,” Eirlys said dryly as she walked up beside them as her brother finished speaking. She’d clearly come from the cooking area of the main cavern, for she held a mug of steaming liquid Iolana guessed was the rich, sweet brew Mahko had a knack for.

  “Indeed,” Brander added from where he was sitting while industriously putting away a piece of brollet Mahko had seasoned with a new plant he’d found growing in the cracks of the rocks of their mountain.

  “How did he react to them?” Iolana asked.

  Drake gave a bemused shake of his head. “It was intriguing to watch. They clearly have little fear of him, and he is clearly fascinated by them.”

  “You’re certain he means them no harm?” Eirlys asked.

  “He, personally, yes. If those orders came down for mass destruction . . . I don’t know.”
<
br />   “I’m not certain he knows,” Iolana said quietly, and then thought of the knowledge she had gained, the secret even Caze himself did not know.

  “He suggested I should be planning an attack. Or rather, said that was what he would do in my place.”

  “The families are happy for the stand-down, but the troops are getting restless,” Brander said, licking his fingers as he finished; it would seem the new sauce was a success.

  “And nervous about our guest,” Eirlys added.

  “Yes,” Brander agreed, then, to Drake, he added, “They trust your judgment unreservedly.” He shifted his gaze to Iolana. “And yours. But it still has them on edge to have the Coalition commander among us.”

  “And rightfully so,” Eirlys said.

  “I would expect nothing less.” Drake grimaced. “And I also expect that, no matter what decision is made about his eventual fate, there will be some unhappy with it.”

  “That’s a given,” Brander said with a grin. “We’re an unruly bunch.”

  “What choices do you have?” Eirlys asked. “You either let him go, or execute him.”

  Iolana saw Drake and Brander exchange a glance that was a bit too pointed to be casual.

  “He’s Coalition, so he deserves the execution,” Eirlys went on. “But in that case it might have been better to save the effort of healing him and simply let him die on that hill.”

  “It does not occur to you,” Iolana said softly to her daughter, “that to heal him and then execute him would be the most exquisitely horrible pun­ishment?”

  Eirlys’s eyes widened, and she drew in an audible, shocked breath. “No!”

  Iolana smiled. “I thought not. Your mind, thankfully, does not run in such hideous ways.”

  “But yours does?” her daughter said, still staring at her.

  “No. But his does, in that it has occurred to him to wonder if that is our plan. And sadder still, he accepts it as a valid choice. Such is his experience with the Coalition.”

  “Stop,” Eirlys said with a small shudder. “You will have me feeling sorry for him.”

  “And that is your greatest grace, my daughter,” she said with a smile.

  “Speaking of grace,” Kye said, coming up to them with her own mug of Mahko’s specialty in one hand, “have you decided yet what’s to be done with that slimehog we hold?”

  “Jakel?” Drake asked.

  “Now there’s one who deserves such a fate as you described,” Eirlys said with a glance at Iolana.

  “He does,” Iolana said without qualm. “Interesting, is it not? We hold two men—using the term in one case loosely—and by logic there could be little doubt which we would be better rid of, given his rank in the Coalition and the power he has over Ziem. And yet . . .”

  “Jakel grew up here, he was, for most of his life, one of us,” Brander said sourly. “His betrayal is worse than a man doing what he sees as his duty, however repugnant that duty might be.”

  “Just like Barkhound,” Eirlys said, using the nickname the twins had attached to their dead but not mourned governor, the turncoat who had handed over his world to the Coalition without even a token protest.

  “Who met his just fate,” Drake said.

  “By the hand of the very beast Kye asked about,” Brander said. “That interlude must have been like throwing two rabid muckrats in a pit and seeing which one kills the other.”

  “Charming, my love,” Eirlys said, but her tone was teasing. Brander shrug­ged, but he was grinning.

  Iolana looked at her eldest. “We could remain here for a very long time. It will be only by accident or some new device that the Coalition finds us. We have heat, thanks to Brander power, and Ziem herself provides us food. Most of the Sentinels have their families here and safe now.”

  “Yes, we could. But then one must wonder if we are still worthy of the Sentinel name,” Drake said quietly.

  She had expected no less from him. “So you see this as the calm before the storm begins again?”

  “You would wish it otherwise? That we stay hidden, and let them have Ziem?”

  The others went very still, and silent. They were watching her, and she suddenly realized they were waiting for her answer. As if it mattered, would even decide their course. And she knew she could put an end to the fighting, the dying, by simply presenting it as something she had foreseen, that they would stay here, safe within their mountain. But she had never used her gift falsely, and she would not begin to do so now. She had already made her entire life’s quota of bad decisions that night on Halfhead Scarp.

  “I only wish that those who fight do so with clear heads and hearts,” she said. “I would want no one forced.”

  “Nor would I. They will be given the choice.”

  “And that, my son, is why they will follow you into the heart of the enemy, if you lead them.”

  Drake lowered his gaze, but not before she saw the warmth in his eyes. Kye surreptitiously took his hand in hers, and Iolana saw him smile then.

  “We have two more days before Paledan is supposed to check in again?” Brander asked. Drake nodded, and Brander shifted his gaze to Iolana. “Where will he be by then?”

  “We should have a good idea how complete the healing is by then. And I suspect he will be beyond ready to push the limits to find out.”

  “I’ve ordered the constant guard already,” Drake said.

  “You took Teal out of the rotation, I assume?” Brander asked. “I think he’d be hard pressed not to kill the man outright, after Gareth’s death.”

  Iolana knew the young man had taken his brother’s death in the trium­phant ambush very hard, for they had been very close for a long time, being all that was left of their once-large family. She checked with him regularly, trying to do whatever he would allow her to ease his pain, but there were some agonies she could not relieve. She could give temporary respite, and had, but that kind of loss was carried forever.

  “I did. He’ll be helping to watch Jakel.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t put it past him to gnaw his way out of that cage,” Brander said dryly.

  “I understand about the major,” Eirlys said, “but I’m not certain why Jakel is still breathing.”

  “Feeling bloodthirsty, little sister?” Drake asked.

  “Aren’t you? After what he did to you?”

  “Extremely,” Drake said mildly, but something about his eyes belied the tone. “Although it is not so much what he did as how much he enjoyed doing it.”

  “He should be put down like the rabid slimehog he is,” Kye said sharply.

  Iolana smiled for a moment at the woman who had risked her own life to rescue Drake from Jakel’s hell. She had become a warrior, had Kye Kalon. Which she was both grateful for and sad about, for it seemed a perversion that an artist of such amazing talent should be forced into such a life.

  The artist who had created the portrait that Caze had rescued from the ruins of the taproom. The portrait that had claimed so much of his thought that she had sensed it upon the slightest brush of his arm.

  A subject she had yet to get an answer from him on.

  She stood up. “I believe it’s time I go check on our other guest.” She took a few steps, then turned back to look at her son. “If you’re not going to do it yourself, for I would say you have first right, you might consider turning that rabid slimehog over to the women who have reason to hate him most. Not only would it do us good, it would be the height of ignominy to that piece of debris to go out at female hands.”

  “Excellent idea,” Eirlys said.

  “Indeed,” agreed Kye. “I’ll even give him a running start.”

  Drake looked at Brander and lifted a brow. “Ferocious, aren’t they?”

  Brander grinned. “Undeniably.”

  “
Be glad we’re on your side,” Iolana said, and both Eirlys and Kye laughed as the two men issued heartfelt agreement.

  And then she set off for her own refuge, which had become anything but with the presence of a man she should think of as an enemy, yet could not.

  Chapter 29

  HE HAD NEVER realized before how the simple act of being upright mat­tered. True, he was only sitting on the edge of the cot he slept on, not on his feet, but those feet moved, as did the rest of him, and while he was about as strong as a newborn brollet, it seemed miraculous nevertheless.

  It was miraculous.

  And that was where his analysis broke down. Because miracles, along with softening emotions and ties through blood were relegated by the Coalition to the ash heap. In fact, were even more so, for at least the latter two existed and had to be eradicated. Miracles were as unbelievable as the fabled blazers here on Ziem, or the golden horses of Arellia.

  And yet . . . here he was, alive, breathing, and even through his current feebleness aware that the sometimes nagging, sometimes breath-stealingly sharp pain in his back, was gone. Completely gone. He’d gone from unbear­able pain and the near certainty he was already dead to this.

  He could not deny those empirical facts. Impossible as they seemed, they were indeed facts and must be accepted.

  It was only the manner of their happening that he could not understand. And it had to simply be that, that he did not yet understand.

  He looked at the woman watching him with a smile on her face. The woman who had made it all happen.

  “You rested,” he said, noting the dark circles under her vivid blue eyes had faded.

  “It was necessary,” she said. “While it was much worse for you, the healing was a great effort for me as well, and I needed to be ready in case something went wrong, or someone else needed my attention.”

  Because they are out battling my troops?

  The question came and went quickly, for there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, if it were true.

  “If you felt even a small fraction of what I felt, I am sorry.”

  She raised an arched brow at him. “I thought regret was not in the Coalition rule book.”