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  “As is everything involving the twins,” Eirlys said with a roll of her eyes.

  Iolana smiled. Decided to take a chance. “Do not think I do not know how much you did to raise them. You were there for them when their mother shirked her responsibility.”

  To her relief, her words did not spark the old enmity. “But it was Drake who guided them. Their cleverness, their fearlessness, comes from him.”

  “And their talent for trouble? Where did that come from?”

  Eirlys smiled widely then. “I believe that,” she said, “can be directly attributed to my mate.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  Eirlys’s gaze flicked back to the holoprojection. “Do you study him be­cause he is the Coalition commander here? Or because he has your portrait?”

  “I can’t deny that is disconcerting.”

  “But as far as we know, he believes you are dead.”

  “And I am not certain if that makes it better or worse, either.” Her mouth quirked. “Although it is likely for the best that all the Coalition believe Iolana Davorin is indeed dead.”

  “It must feel odd. The people believe Iolana dead, but the Spirit of the mountain, the mysterious seer and healer, alive. What would they think if they learned not only that Iolana Davorin is alive, but she and the Spirit are one and the same?”

  “We must hope they do not, at least not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “I think that is a knowledge best saved for when it might do the most good.”

  Eirlys considered this, then nodded. “The troops on the mountain, when you helped take out the fusion cannon, apparently believe that they en­count­ered the legendary Spirit in a flare of light, and she . . . put a spell upon them.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Iolana answered it anyway; she would do anything to nurture this tentative reconnecting. “It was not a spell. It was merely a calling upon the power of the mountain to hold them fast. It only lasts a minute or two, but it was enough, in that case.”

  “Like the hum of the Heart of Ziem?” Eirlys asked, referring to the stone from the heart of this very mountain, the stone that, among other things, sent out a hum to all born of Ziem, which they had used to help Drake and Kye find the trapped Brander and Kade after the ambush.

  “In a way, yes.” She studied her daughter, wondered if she might be pushing her luck a bit, but said it anyway. “You have a form of the same gift. If you have the desire, I could teach you how to harness it. And use it.” Eirlys didn’t speak for a moment, and Iolana thought she had indeed asked for too much too soon. “Or if you prefer, Grim could begin the lessons. He has less of the gift, but it is there.”

  “Is that why you keep him with you?”

  “I do not keep him. He stays.”

  “A fine line, considering he does your bidding at all times.”

  “Not so fine. Would you have Brander bound to you against his will?”

  Her eyes widened. “Never. It would be meaningless.”

  “Exactly. And your creatures, once they are healed, do you not let them go?”

  “Of course. Those who stay choose to . . .”

  Iolana nodded as Eirlys’s words trailed off in understanding. “Grimbald Thrace is his own man. We do not always agree, but there is always respect. And he is also my friend. We have been through much together, and I would remain his friend even without the ability he has.”

  “Some have speculated that he is more than a friend.”

  Iolana sighed. “Naturally. Are you among them?”

  “I have . . . wondered.”

  “I will say only that we are dear, close friends, but nothing more. Any­thing else to be told is up to Grim.”

  Eirlys nodded. “He seemed to me to be too much in awe of you for those speculations to be accurate. I shall quash them when I hear them, if it is your—and his—wish.”

  She liked that her daughter included Grim in that offer. “I would appreciate that. Grim you will have to—”

  “Ask myself.” Eirlys smiled suddenly. “I look forward to it. He is speaking to us more and more. I think we should feel honored.”

  Iolana smiled. “I believe you mean that.”

  “I do. Grim is a remarkable man. Different, but remarkable. I am glad you had each other.”

  This was more than Iolana had ever expected. She, too, was glad she’d had Grim’s steady presence, although that had not been the reason she’d helped him when she’d found him injured and in agony all those years ago. A favor he had returned tenfold.

  But she was gladder yet—and a little stunned—that Eirlys had just implied that she was also pleased that she herself had not died after all. Her surprise must have shown, for Eirlys gave her a rueful smile.

  “Most of my anger was at my situation, being unable to join the fight. And now . . . if I think of losing Brander as you lost father, I . . .”

  Her voice trailed off. Iolana smiled gently. “You have walked in another’s shoes and learned, my daughter. I am proud of you.”

  Eirlys smiled back, still somewhat tentatively.

  Iolana turned back to the holoprojector. Tapped at it to turn the page. This time an image appeared. And for a moment she forgot to breathe. She simply stared at the picture, caught by eyes that seemed too vividly green not to have been altered in the image.

  It looked like an official portrait, a man in a Coalition-crisp uniform, the left chest strewn with medals. His hair was militarily short, and touched with silver, just enough to add gravitas to a face that was nearly too perfectly chiseled and strong.

  That man also did not look happy. Whether it was the formal garb or impatience at having to pose, it fairly radiated even from the still image. And she sensed something else, under the surface. Weariness? No . . . pain. From the wound that sent him here?

  “That is truly him?” Although the label, Major Caze Paledan, was clear, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from voicing the words.

  “It is.”

  “He is . . . compelling.”

  “He is more so in person.”

  “Do you know how long ago he was injured?”

  “I know only that it was on Darvis, before he came here. And that he was obviously not incapacitated permanently.”

  But not healed, either. It came to her with that piercing certainty she had learned to never doubt.

  When Eirlys had gone, she went back to her perusal of all the files the Sentinels had accumulated. They had more than she’d expected, because her ever-wise son had put the word out to anyone who joined them to bring what they had, even though at the time they had not had the power capability to even look at them. But Brander—also now her son, she thought with a smile—had remedied that as he had so much else. Including her daughter’s mood. Which also made her smile. But it faltered a bit as she acknowledged her children hadn’t really needed her at all. Their choice of mates proved them quite capable of doing without her advice.

  She called up the image once more, of that man in the Coalition uniform. An image she should hate on sight, and yet could not seem to. Instead she studied his features and saw no cruelty—the thick hair cut short, the strong, intelligent look of his forehead and brow, the stern expression softened just slightly by a mouth she could only imagine in a smile, no matter that Brander had told her he did, on occasion, actually laugh. And the eyes. Those vivid green eyes . . . were they common on his world, the norm, as blue eyes were here on misty Ziem?

  His home world. Lustros, the spawning ground of the Coalition. The thought made her shudder inwardly. She knew little of the world itself, only that it had become the production center for Coalition officers. And a pro­ducer it was, a factory of sorts. A factory producing fighters, not families. This man would never know the feeling of being a part of a family, which held you a
s nothing else could. Even when the ties were strained unto breaking, as hers had been, they were still there.

  And for that, to her own amazement, she felt sorry. Pity, for not just a Coalition officer, but the man in charge of keeping Ziem subjugated.

  Weary of sitting, she reached out to turn off the holoprojector. Stopped. Once more looked at the image of a Coalition hero. The man she should hate.

  Instead she was curious. And the moment she realized that, she finished the action of hitting the switch. The image vanished.

  Would that the Coalition and the man himself were so easy to be rid of.

  Chapter 3

  “I AM NOT CERTAIN this is wise, my lady.”

  Iolana laughed at Grim’s carefully chosen words. “I,” she said, “am fairly certain it is entirely unwise, my tall friend.”

  “And yet you are determined to do it.”

  “Fairly,” she said.

  “Will you at least consult with Drake?”

  She studied the man who had been with her from the day he had pulled her from the Racelock, sodden and broken in so many ways. Little had she known years before that she had changed her future, when she’d healed a frightened young man with a viciously broken leg. That he’d not been from Ziem did not matter to her then, and when she learned he’d been abandoned here, she’d felt bound to him as more than just healer.

  “Or if you won’t consult your son,” Grim added, “at least . . . the Raider?”

  “There you have a point. I would not wish to interfere with any of his plans.”

  “He has said he thinks it best the Sentinels stay hidden for a while, in the aftermath, while the Coalition is hunting so fiercely.”

  “And I agree. But I am not a Sentinel.”

  “No, you are something even more valuable.”

  “I think my children might argue that with you, my friend.”

  “Not so much, anymore.”

  She smiled at that. “I hope you are right, Grim. I do feel as if I have made progress. I am not where I want to be, but I am beyond where I hoped to be by now.”

  “Then may I suggest you not endanger that?”

  Grim argued so doggedly only if he felt very strongly about his point, and so she said, “I will discuss it with Drake.”

  “And if he says no?”

  “That will depend on whether the no comes from my son, or the Raider.”

  After a moment, Grim nodded, and she turned back to her preparations. When nearly an hour later she was finished, she called him back for an inspection.

  “Will I pass?” she asked.

  He looked at her critically. “Away from here I believe you will, my lady, to even the most discerning eye.”

  She nodded, pleased. Then they set off for Drake’s quarters. As she passed through the large cavern, where many were gathered during this respite from the fight, she drew some curious glances. But not one of them held recognition, which both pleased and concerned her. If they thought her a stranger, they should confront her. Then again, she was with Grim, who was familiar to them.

  They encountered Drake and Kye coming out, looking as if they’d put this lull in the fight to very pleasant use. She allowed herself a brief moment to hope that one day there would be that grandchild she had asked him for.

  “Grim,” Drake acknowledged the man, then glanced at her. “Who have you brought us?”

  “A visitor,” she said, using the inflection of someone from the flats.

  Drake frowned. “A dangerous journey for only a visit.”

  “And if I wished to join your ranks?”

  “We take in whoever is willing to lend their skills, whatever they may be. Have you someone here already?”

  “Yes,” Iolana said. Then she looked up at the man beside her and smiled. Grim sighed in capitulation. Drake frowned. And then Kye gasped.

  “Iolana!”

  Drake blinked. Looked back at her. Frowned again.

  “I see it took an artist’s eye,” Iolana said, in her normal voice.

  Realization dawned on her son’s face. “It is you.”

  “Amazing what some bark dye and enhancers can do, is it not?”

  She had darkened her most recognizable feature, her hair, to a brown nearly as deep as Kye’s, and pulled it up into a smooth knot at the back of her head. Then she had used what she had in the way of tints and other facial enhancers to recontour her features so that she looked not enhanced but different.

  “Amazing indeed,” Drake agreed.

  “I am more interested in the reason than the results,” Kye said.

  “As am I. Why have you done this?” Drake asked.

  Iolana drew herself up and faced this tall, strong man she was so very proud to call her son. She was not used to asking for permission, but he was also the Raider, and this was his command. “I am going to Zelos. I ask your blessing.”

  Drake stared at her. She both saw and sensed the rejection surging in him. But she knew it was the Raider, not her son, who responded.

  “Why?”

  “I am more than willing to do anything you believe necessary while there,” she said, “but my reason is my own.”

  He was still frowning as he studied her. “It is bad enough Brander insists on frequenting the city, even if his reasoning is sound.”

  She thought about that for a moment then nodded. “True. If Brander has nothing to do with the Raider, then there is no reason for him not to be there, and if he suddenly vanishes, it will all but convict him.”

  “Exactly. Do you have as valid a reason? This would risk much.”

  “But not the Sentinels. I am a woman from the flats, unremarkable, or­din­ary, seeking word of survivors. And I can gather useful information while I am there.”

  “Assuming,” Drake said flatly, “you return alive.”

  “I might be harder to kill than you think.”

  For a brief moment, an old anger flashed in her son’s eyes. “I think I have a fairly good idea of how hard you are to kill.” She didn’t flinch, alt­hough it took an effort. And after that brief moment, the look faded. “My apologies,” Drake said. “I thought that behind me.”

  “Such pain as I caused is difficult to forget.”

  His mouth twisted wryly at one corner. “It would be easier to stay angry did you not take the blame so readily.”

  “What else am I to do? Blame someone else for my own horrible choice?”

  “Many would,” Kye said quietly. “And for that I admire you.”

  Iolana shifted her gaze to the woman who had the heart and courage to love both Drake and the Raider. “I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”

  Drake sighed, and it sounded much as Grim’s had, a giving in. “And how can I deny one who so esteems my pledged mate?”

  She knew she had won, but Iolana looked back at him and said steadily, “Drake could not, but the Raider could.”

  “And you would comply?”

  He said it dryly, as if he expected her to say no. And so she chose her words and her tone carefully. “His wisdom and leadership has brought us to great success. He has my complete respect. Thus . . . yes, I would.”

  For a moment Drake looked away, as if embarrassed. But he quickly regained control. “You will find Zelos—what is left of it—much changed.”

  “I expect as much. If I see no one that I once knew alive, I will not be surprised.”

  She saw him draw in a breath, and then nod. He glanced at Grim. “You accompany her?”

  “It was my wish—”

  “But I forbade it. He will fly me to the edge of the high valley, but he will wait there. Grim is too recognizable, his height undisguisable. And there could yet be someone who remembers him, given he is not Ziem born.”

  �
��Agreed,” Drake said. “I will trust, Spirit, that you will find a way to come back safely.”

  She knew it was the Raider speaking now, to someone who had been of use. “I am glad that is of concern to you.”

  “It is.” And then, just for a moment, he was her son again. “I would hate to lose my mother again.”

  Moisture welled up in her eyes. It was enough that she almost recon­sidered. But she had been a coward once, abandoning her duty to avoid her own pain. Something this man who had once been the babe she had carried would never do. And for that, she owed him whatever help she could give.

  His needs would come first, she thought. And her own mission after. Or not at all, if it came to that.

  “Are there things you wish to know from Zelos?” she asked briskly. “Things I should look for or observe? Or try and draw from those I encounter?”

  Again it was the Raider who gave her a short list of things; the condition of the council building and the docks they had blown up as diversion to cover their evacuation to this stronghold. And the landing zone she would have to pass, and any sign that the foundation for the fusion cannon they had destroyed was being made ready for a replacement. Plus any rumors that she might hear that could be worth following up.

  “And if you come across any collaborators with the enemy that would be good to know,” Kye said rather sourly.

  “I will see Eirlys before I go,” she said. “Perhaps she will loan me one of her birds who knows the way back here, should I come across anything of urgency.”

  Drake nodded. She left them then and went in search of her gentle yet fierce daughter. She found her, as expected, in the sanctuary Brander had made for her, with the injured and ill animals he had risked—and nearly lost— his life to bring to her.

  Eirlys turned when she came in. Gave her a puzzled look, the same that she had seen in the cavern, the look of someone seeing a stranger in an unexpected place.

  “Hello,” she said, back to using that accent of someone from the flats.

  “Hello,” Eirlys said, not warily but still hesitant. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” A smile then. “Have you brought me a new lodger?”