The Quantum Rose

XII. Consent. Multi-Channel Scattering

A voice pulled Kamoj awake. For the past few hours, she and Jax had been sitting against a wall of the burrow, dozing. She couldn’t truly sleep, though. Hunger and thirst gnawed at her. Just the act of breathing had become a torment, a battle against the constriction of her clothes. The cold felt as if it had permeated to her bones.

Jax also slept fitfully. He had neither cloak nor jacket, and he still hadn’t bothered to lace his shirt. Frost lined the hairs on his chest. His quirt, sword, and leather sword-belt lay at his feet.

“Governor Ironbridge,” the voice repeated. A stagman stood within the shadows by the burrow entrance.

Jax stirred, then sat forward, rubbing his eyes. “Lector? Come here, man. What is it?”

Lector came over and knelt by him. “You had the right of it, sir. Lionstar attacked the camp. There was fighting.”

“I don’t suppose Lionstar is dead by any chance?” Jax asked.

“No, sir. No one died.”

Jax rubbed his neck and shoulders. “What is the situation?”

“We did as you said and made use of the spelled box the Ascendant’s minions gave you.”

“Did anyone answer?”

“Indeed,” Lector said. “The Ascendant sent a metal bird. It took away Lionstar and left ten of those large Ascendant stagman who wear black. They be at the camp now.”

“Ten?” Jax tensed. “As conquerors or protectors?”

“We donnee know. They say nothing.”

“I want you to send a message to the Ascendant,” Jax said. “Tell them I’ve changed my mind about this Arbiter of theirs, that I’m willing to go with their first choice after all.”

“Sir?”

“They chose a woman. I refused.” Jax pushed back his hair. “This is the message: ‘His honor, the Governor of Ironbridge, accepts the Ascendant’s first choice of Arbiter. Although he has discomfort with this, as women don’t serve as judges here, his wife would feel more comfortable talking to a woman.’”

Kamoj stiffened. She had never said that. She had no desire to talk to anyone. She just wanted this to be over.

After Lector left, Jax turned to Kamoj and drew her into his arms, pulling Lector’s cloak around them both. He spoke against her hair. “You are so warm under here.”

She wondered how his body worked, that he thought her warm when she felt so cold. If only he had a kindness to match his physical strengths and prodigious intellect.

“This is why he attacked my camp,” Jax said. “He knows I’m alone with you.” His voice sounded strained. “How does he do it, Kamoj? How can he see what is in your heart so much better than I?”

“He feels emotions,” she said.

“His bodyguards do also, don’t they? To a lesser extent.”

“I think so.”

Bitterness touched his voice. “Shall we give him more emotions to feel, ones he can get from you tomorrow at the Inquiry?” His hand moved over her breast. “The feelings of a man and his wife together?”

“Jax—”

“‘Jax,’ what?” His voice hardened. “A lifetime we’ve built together. Then in one day you throw it all to a stranger who invades our land, steals our loved ones, mocks our ways, and plunders our dreams.” He gritted his teeth. “You pushed me too far tonight, calling for him. I can’t just let it pass.”

As he reached for his belt, Kamoj tried to shield herself with her hands. Her tight sleeves stopped her from lifting her arms, but soon it didn’t matter. Jax wanted no cloth protecting his target. He showed her the ways of his quirt and belt, their every texture and nuance, then held her in his arms and showed her the ways of himself, giving her memories meant to torment Vyrl as much as please himself.

Later, when he had fallen asleep, she tried to blank her mind. To forget.

The Ironbridge camp took form out of the morning’s misty light. Stagmen were everywhere: Ironbridge in violet and silver, Lionstar in copper and blue, Ascendant in black.

Kamoj rode on Mistrider in front of Jax, flanked by Lector and Tera on stagback. She could imagine the sight they made, emerging out of the prismatic mist, otherworldly and antediluvian on their shimmering greenglass mounts. With such a small party, they would appear vulnerable to Vyrl’s people, helpless natives come to face a rampaging sky-boat prince. She wondered if Jax had planned it that way.

She felt dazed. In the last three days she had eaten once and slept only a few hours. The chill penetrated her bones. Jax had given his word: she could eat and sleep after the Ascendant people left. She didn’t doubt he meant it; one reason he inspired loyalty from his people, even if they also feared him, was because he kept his word.

Twelve soldiers waited outside Jax’s pavilion, four each for Ironbridge, Lionstar, and the Ascendant. As Jax and his party rode up to the tent, three boys appeared, running up to meet them, staghands in breeches and heavy furs. After Jax and Kamoj dismounted, the youths led away the greenglass stags. The Ironbridge and Lionstar stagmen bowed while the Ascendant soldiers watched Kamoj with a disturbing intensity. Were they trying to read her emotions? I am a lake, she thought. A flat lake. No ripples.

An Ironbridge stagman spoke. “The Inquiry awaits inside.”

Jax nodded. Kamoj wondered how he had arranged to have Vyrl wait for him. A morass of conflicting authorities surrounded them here, complex and intricate.

Flanked by stagmen, they entered the pavilion. Braziers warmed the tent, and the sudden increase in temperature made Kamoj queasy. The Inquiry waited at the table where Jax had signed the contracts yesterday. His priestess and judge were already there, along with two strangers, a man with black hair and an older woman. Shimmers covered the strangers and they dressed like Dazza, in grey bodysuits with the exploding sun insignia on one shoulder. They and Kamoj were the only ones with no weapons: all the stagmen carried swords, and the Ascendant soldiers had snouted weapons on their belts.

Everyone at the table stood up as Jax entered. He ignored them, glancing around the tent. Vyrl was nowhere to be seen.

A rustle came from behind them. Turning, Kamoj saw eight soldiers entering the tent, four from the Ascendant and four in Lionstar colors.

A man with iron-grey hair walked among them.

He towered over the stagmen, massive in build, with a face of granite-hewn lines. He too wore the grey uniform, but his had gold ribbing on the sleeves. His presence riveted attention. Kamoj needed no introduction to tell her this man carried authority. The force of his personality filled the tent.

Next came Vyrl, with two bodyguards, huge men in Jagernaut black who seemed to be holding him prisoner as much as protecting him. Seeing him, her heart raced. Neither he nor Jax spoke: instead, they stared at each other, their hostility almost thick enough to see.

Vyrl had no weapons, or ceremonial clothes and diskmail. In fact, she had never seen garb such as he wore: grey trousers with a crease down each leg and cuff at the bottom; a white sweater with a high, folded neck; and shoes with no visible seams. The fabric of his pants was so fine she couldn’t see the weave. She knew of no one who could sew such a flawless garment.

At the table, the woman from the Ascendant spoke. “It would be best if the weapons remained outside the tent.”

There was a shifting of weight, feet moving, hands sliding on hilts, the crackling of brazier. Kamoj waited for Jax to refuse. If he or his stagmen gave up their weapons, Ironbridge relinquished what share of authority it had so far managed to retain.

Incredibly, Jax removed his sword belt and handed it to one of his stagman, then nodded for his soldiers to remove theirs. After an awkward silence, Vyrl told his people to disarm. The man of power from the Ascendant watched the exchange with an intent gaze that Kamoj suspected missed nothing. When he glanced at the two men guarding Vyrl, the Jagernauts, they gave slight nods, acknowledging whatever unspoken order he had just made. When the other twelve soldiers left the tent, the two Jagernauts remained behind.

Jax considered them, and the bulky black weapons on their belts, the “antimatter guns.” Then he looked at the Ascendant’s people, his accusation obvious without his uttering a word.

The woman spoke. “Given the conditions of Prince Havyrl’s arrest, his guards cannot remove their guns while they are standing guard on him.”

At the word “arrest,” satisfaction flickered on Jax’s face. He made no further dispute. It surprised Kamoj, given his intent to establish authority. That was done with behaviors that displayed the expectation of obedience. But then, such methods would do little good here, given the superiority of the Ascendant’s people in everything from weapons to physical size to clothing. This battle would be fought in more subtle ways.

Besides, Jax was still armed. He had shown her the knife this morning as he hid it in his boot. It didn’t matter that one knife was nothing against “antimatter guns.” If he stabbed her with it, she would still be dead.

Everyone stood, waiting. Then Vyrl sat down, across the table from Kamoj. She eased into her chair, trying to hide how much it hurt to move or sit. The man of power from the Ascendant sat next, followed by everyone else. A rustle came from the tent entrance and the twelve soldiers reentered, all unarmed now.

A new person came with the soldiers. Dazza Pacal. As she sat at the table, the Ironbridge judge frowned and glanced at Jax. Yet again, Jax made no protest. Instead he nodded to the colonel as if it were perfectly natural for her to attend an inquiry that concerned his personal life and had nothing to do with her. Of all people, he was the last Kamoj would have expected to show such flexibility.

The unfamiliar Ascendant woman spoke. “I am Major Tulain.” She nodded to the man of power. “General Hamilton Ashman.”

Kamoj froze. Ashman. Ashman. Vyrl had told her that name. General Ashman commanded the Ascendant. This was the man who had made the decision to leave Vyrl buried alive above the sky.

“I will serve as Arbiter for these proceedings,” Major Tulain continued. “Is this acceptable to all parties?”

Jax spoke quietly. “Ironbridge accepts.”

“Yes,” Vyrl said.

The Arbiter waited. When the silence became awkward, she said, “Governor Argali?”

Kamoj tensed. Now what?

“Major Tulain.” Jax paused. “A woman in Kamoj’s position, that is, in a merger such as ours, won’t speak at a proceeding such as this.”

“Unless he gives her permission.” Vyrl’s voice grated. “As her owner.”

Jax tried to look patient. Tulain glanced at Vyrl, then back at Jax. “Is that true?”

“Prince Havyrl chooses to see our lives through the filter of his experiences,” Jax said. “Although this is understandable, given his condition, it makes no sense to confuse our customs with those of the people you are at war with, a people we have neither met nor had any connection to at all.”

“Confuse hell,” Vyrl said.

Tulain gave him a warning glance. Then she spoke to Jax. “Your willingness to adapt to our procedures for the benefit of Governor Argali has been noted and appreciated. However, we can’t proceed with this hearing unless she participates.”

Kamoj waited for Jax to refuse. Instead he turned to her and spoke softly. “Please. Feel free to speak.”

She gritted her teeth. He made himself look so reasonable, a leader trying to do the best for his wife and people. In his own way, that was his intent. But, if she said something he didn’t like, she would pay for it later.

“I want Governor Ironbridge to speak for me,” she said.

“I object,” Vyrl said.

“She has the right to make the request,” Tulain said.

“What’s wrong with all of you?” Vyrl said. “Can’t you see she’s afraid of him?”

“Perhaps it isn’t me that she fears,” Jax said.

“Like hell,” Vyrl said.

The Arbiter held up her hand. To Kamoj, she said, “In this Inquiry you are under the protection of Imperial Space Command. No one can force you to do anything you don’t want.” Gently she added, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” Kamoj said. Why did they all talk to her as if she were a child? It made no difference. She had seen how well they “protected” her from Jax. Her body ached from their protection.

“All you have to do is ask,” Tulain said. “But the request must come from you.”

“I understand,” Kamoj said.

“Do you still wish Governor Ironbridge to speak for you?”

“Yes.”

“Damn it,” Vyrl said. “Major, can’t you see she doesn’t believe you?”

Tulain considered Kamoj. “We can protect you. No one can hurt you.” She paused. “That includes Prince Havyrl as well as your husband.”

“He’s not her goddamned husband,” Vyrl said.

Tulain turned to him. “Perhaps it would be better if we address that question through proper Inquiry procedures.”

Vyrl scowled, but said nothing more. Ashman watched it all with piercing concentration, letting his minions probe while he analyzed. Kamoj suspected that he was, by far, the most dangerous person in the room.

Tulain’s assistant set a black book-box on the table, then opened it to reveal a sheaf of parchments. Tulain lifted the top paper. “The question,” she said, “is whether or not these contracts were willingly signed by Kamoj Argali. Her signature is in your hand, Governor Ironbridge.”

“Kamoj can neither read nor write,” Jax said.

“Is she aware of what you signed for her?”

“Of course. She was here when we discussed it.”

“Prince Havyrl contends you coerced her agreement.”

“Prince Havyrl is mistaken.”

As the questions continued, the scene blurred for Kamoj. All she could think of was how much she wanted to sleep. But the Inquiry ground on and on. They covered every detail of her life since the day Vyrl had seen her in the river. The picture that formed was twisted around, yet nothing was false. She had said she dreaded the Lionstar-Argali merger. She had removed Vyrl’s mask in the coach. He hadn’t known her name, or even remembered he was married.

Then came statements from the palace staff. Vyrl’s servants went far beyond the expected fealty. Again and again they expressed their devotion to him. They spoke of humane working conditions, of wages that allowed them to climb out of poverty, of Vyrl’s talent with grains and livestock, his innovation with crop rotation, his cleverness in using the tiny flying lizards to aid the crops. All spoke of his kindness. Although Jax sat quietly, Kamoj felt his growing anger. He had never expected this.

But every statement stumbled when it came to Vyrl’s drinking, his moods, his tormented nights. With his marriage to Kamoj, the stumbles became lurches.

Tulain read the comments of the housemaid who had come to help Kamoj the morning after her wedding night. “‘She looked so scared,’” the maid said. “‘So vulnerable. And she be clutching a doll. A doll. Like a little girl. I know his Highness be a good man, I know it truly. But this-I don’t know what to say.’”

In the silence that followed, Jax said, “Kamoj and I weren’t to marry for at least another two years.”

Kamoj stiffened. What game was Jax playing now? He had constantly chafed at the delay in their marriage.

“Under the laws of our people,” Tulain said, “she can’t marry for another seven years. That’s about eight of your short-years.”

“What?” Vyrl stared at the major. “What are you talking about?”

Jax snorted. “Perhaps you need to learn your own laws, Lionstar.”

Vyrl ignored him, his attention on Tulain. “She can marry when she’s twenty-five.”

“That’s right,” Tulain said.

“But she is now.”

Everyone just looked at him. Finally Dazza said, “Vyrl, Kamoj is eighteen years old.”

“That’s impossible,” he said. “Look at her. Talk to her. She’s a grown woman.”

“Her people were gengineered to mature early,” Dazza said. “To increase the span of their useful years as slaves. That trait manifests in Kamoj. She is more mature, in both mind and body, than what we associate with her age. Also, in this culture people marry at a young age. Kamoj is actually considered old for a bride. But legally she is a child.”

Vyrl sagged back in his chair. Watching him, Kamoj felt his defeat. He knew how he looked. He glanced at her and flushed, as if he believed she too thought him a monster. She wanted to reassure him, but she knew better than to speak. Maybe he would sense her feelings, maybe not. He never seemed to catch them fully, only in pieces, and what she felt now, more than anything else, was tired.

Tulain picked up a blue paper and glanced at Vyrl. “This is your conversation with Colonel Pacal when you took Governor Argali riding.” She scanned it, then read, “‘Look at this. My wife. A farm girl like a virginal sex goddess out of an erotic holomovie, and all she asks is a simple life, a husband who doesn’t beat her, and the freedom to walk in the woods.’”

When Jax turned his head away, Kamoj didn’t think he was acting. Vyrl’s words probably did offend him, though not for the same reasons everyone else looked uncomfortable. Jax considered it his right to beat her.

“It’s not the way it sounds,” Vyrl said. “I was drunk.”

“It also says your stagman Azander had a bruise on his face where you hit him.” Tulain paused. “What exactly did you mean by ‘a husband who doesn’t beat her’?”

“Saints almighty, Major, I was in the middle of a convulsion when I hit Azander.” Vyrl’s fist clenched on the table. “If you want to know what I meant about beating, ask him.” He stabbed his finger in the air, at Jax. “He thinks it’s his right. In bed, no less.”

Jax rose out of his chair. “You will not speak of my wife that way.”

Vyrl stood up. “She’s not your wife.”

“Gentleman, sit down,” Ashman said.

Jax took a breath and let it out. Then he nodded to Ashman. “My apologies, General.” He sat down, leaving Vyrl standing. After an awkward moment, Vyrl sat down as well.

Kamoj hated this. Jax was making Vyrl look worse and worse. Neither Tulain nor Ashman seemed disposed to speak in Vyrl’s defense and she didn’t dare. Dazza, however, could. Kamoj looked across the table, trying to send a silent plea to the colonel.

Dazza blinked at her. Then she turned to the Arbiter. “Major Tulain, a fairly easy way exists to establish the truth of at least some accusations being made or implied by both parties in this disagreement.”

“Go on,” Tulain said.

“I can examine Kamoj,” Dazza said. “If she’s been mistreated, I’ll know. And I can probably tell by whom.”

Jax tensed. “My wife has suffered enough indignities at the hands of you people. I will tolerate no more.”

Vyrl leaned forward. “Are you afraid of what they’ll find?”

“Why don’t we ask Governor Argali?” Tulain said.

Kamoj gritted her teeth. She didn’t want anyone touching her. The idea of being “examined” was revolting. All she had wanted was for Dazza to speak in Vyrl’s defense.

“Why can’t you all leave her alone?” Jax said. “Hasn’t she suffered enough?”

Tulain regarded Kamoj. “Governor Argali, no one will force you to be examined. But you have the right. If it shows you’ve been mistreated, it could change the nature of this hearing.”

“Change it?” Kamoj asked.

“At the moment,” Tulain said, “the only evidence supporting Prince Havyrl’s contention you are being coerced is that the servants at the palace were bound, gagged, and unconscious. Governor Ironbridge claims you asked they be restrained to keep them from stopping your departure. No one saw you leave, Morlin was down, and none of our orbital facilities were monitoring the palace at that moment. Our attention was on the fires and Prince Havyrl.”

The fires. What was next in the path of Ironbridge’s vengeance? “I want to stay with Jax,” Kamoj answered. “I’ve told you that. Can’t any of you hear? What else do you want from me?”

They were all watching her now: general, colonel, major. Too many titles. The priestess was frowning and the Ironbridge judge’s face had gone hard.

Vyrl spoke softly. “Kamoj, last night you shouted for me. Why? If you wanted to stay with him, why did you call me back?”

“You misheard,” Jax said.

“Everyone heard her,” Vyrl told him.

The Arbiter spoke. “Prince Havyrl, you are the only one who thinks he understood her actual words.”

“Damn it!” Vyrl hit the table with his fist. “I heard it because she said it.”

Jax sighed. “What my wife shouted was an oath. I’m sorry this is so hard for you to accept, Lionstar. You heard what your overwrought mind wanted to hear, not what she said.”

As Vyrl stood up, his face flushed, the Arbiter said, “Prince Havyrl, please. Sit down. Your outbursts help nothing.”

Vyrl clenched his fists, but he sat down. Kamoj couldn’t focus on his face. The room was dimming around her.

The Ironbridge judge spoke. “Governor Argali has repeatedly stated her wish to remain faithful to her husband. What more do you people require before you stop tormenting her? The only reason this Inquiry exists is because Havyrl Lionstar refuses to believe the truth. He is the one who took her to his bed without her consent.”

Diskmail clinked, and Azander appeared at the table. The Arbiter glanced at him, then at Vyrl and Jax. When neither made an objection, Tulain spoke to Azander. “Yes?”

“I be sorry to interrupt,” Azander said. “I wish to make a testimony.”

Jax blinked. So did everyone else. Kamoj wondered what Azander was doing.

“What do you wish to say?” Tulain asked.

“When Prince Havyrl be near to dying in the large metal bird, Governor Argali spoke for him. She convinced them to take him home instead of to the Ascendant.”

Tulain nodded. “Yes, we have that in your testimony.”

“But it not be said proper on that parchment you read,” Azander said. “It mattered to Governor Argali that he be well treated. The caring for him, she has it.”

Dazza spoke to the Arbiter. “I know what he’s saying, Cara. And he’s right. I’ve seen it too. Kamoj has worked miracles with Prince Havyrl, reached him when none of us could even come close. His well-being genuinely seems to matter to her.”

Jax spoke with unexpected affection. “Of course it matters to her. That is the kind of person Kamoj is. She cares about everyone. It is one of the many reasons her people respond so well to her.” His voice tightened. “That Lionstar took advantage of this doesn’t excuse his behavior.”

Vyrl stiffened, but this time he controlled himself. None of the others seemed to know how to respond.

General Ashman spoke to Vyrl. “Did you know she was like that?”

“Not when I married her,” Vyrl said.

The two of them kept looking at each other, fighting their own private war, which Kamoj suspected had been going on long before she met Vyrl. Finally Vyrl stood up. His guards tensed, and several Ironbridge stagmen dropped their hands to their belts, reaching for swords they no longer carried. Vyrl ignored them and walked away, stopping only when he reached a brazier near the edge of the tent.

He turned and spoke to Ashman. “Imperial Space Command went to great lengths to get me, lengths so extreme it boggles the mind. Why? Because I’m a great leader? A vital member of ISC? A brilliant strategist? No.” He tapped his head. “Because I’m a Ruby telepath. So why do you doubt me now when I say I know what that thing”—He pointed at Jax—”is doing to Kamoj?”

“Because you’ve been in a telepathic catatonia for over a year,” Ashman said.

Dazza spoke quietly. “Vyrl, she’s the first person you’ve responded to since you came on board the Ascendant. How can you be sure of your reactions?”

He lowered his arm. “I’m sure.”

“You’re the only one who has picked up anything about abuse.” Dazza motioned at his bodyguards. “They haven’t.”

“They aren’t Ruby telepaths.”

Ashman glanced at the Jagernauts, who had moved to stand near Vyrl. “What are you getting from her?”

“Fatigue,” the first man said. “She desperately wants this Inquiry to end.”

The second man nodded. “She resents ISC presence here.”

That’s right, Kamoj thought. She had given her answer and they had to respect it. More than anything, she wanted to sleep. She stood up, intending to demand an end to the Inquiry. Before she had a chance even to form the words, the world went gray and tilted sideways. The floor came up at her. Jax jumped to his feet and caught her as she collapsed. Sagging against him, she heard voices, something about Elixson, then more voices.

“Keep that hag away from her!” Jax ordered.

“Ironbridge, don’t be a fool,” Vyrl said. “Colonel Pacal is a healer, better than any you have here in camp.”

Jax lifted Kamoj into his arms. Then the fresh smell of his bed enfolded her. Someone had washed the covers. Jax made a blur above her, wavering in a grey mist. Lying on her side, she let the mist thicken until she could no longer see him.

A change in the pitch of voices brought her mind back into focus. Jax and Vyrl were standing a few paces apart now, by the bed, their faces flushed, their voices rising in volume.

“—think you can take whatever you want,” Jax said.

Vyrl clenched his fists at his sides. “That problem is yours, Ironbridge, not mine.”

“Argali is none of your business.”

Vyrl stepped forward, raising his fists. “We have laws—”

“Don’t threaten me.” Jax put his hands against Vyrl’s shoulders and shoved him away.

They came together like wrestlers, grappling with each other. Jax stumbled back, and with a crash he fell across the Inquiry table, knocking over a lantern. He and Vyrl wrestled, locked together, Vyrl closing his hands around Jax’s throat.

The Jagernauts were also moving, so fast their bodies blurred. One grabbed Vyrl and the other Jax, both guards straining as their captives resisted. They yanked Vyrl and Jax apart, one of the Jagernauts holding Vyrl by the arms, the other holding Jax.

Vyrl swore, struggling in his guard’s iron grip. For an instant Jax looked too stunned to respond. Then he tried to jerk his arms away from the giant who had caught him, a move he could easily have managed with a stagman, had one of his soldiers been stupid enough to try restraining him. It made no difference to the Jagernaut. Only when Jax quit fighting did the Ascendant stagman let him go.

“You have no right,” Kamoj said. She wasn’t sure who she spoke to: Vyrl, Jax, or the people from the Ascendant. Perhaps all of them. She wanted everyone to leave. She tried to get off the bed, but her body wouldn’t respond. It occurred to her that if she didn’t eat soon, she would die.

The bed creaked. Then someone lifted her head into his lap, just as she had often done with Vyrl. She rolled onto her back and looked up to see Jax’s face above hers. Kneeling behind her, he held her head on his knees while he stroked her hair with the same inborn rhythm she had used on Vyrl. A bruise was purpling his face and a large tear made a ragged hole in the shoulder of his shirt. He looked far more vulnerable than Vyrl, who stood at the end of the bed flanked by his gargantuan bodyguards with their antimatter weapons.

Jax raised his gaze to Ashman. “Why don’t you all go back to your starships and leave us alone?”

The general spoke quietly. “You will have to let my doctor examine Governor Argali.”

“No,” Jax said.

Kamoj swallowed. “Jax… I don’t feel well.”

He stroked her hair. “Elixson can take care of you.” Glancing at his healer, he said, “Why is she sick?”

“She needs food and rest,” Elixson said.

“I fed her,” Jax said. “Just as you said. Right after we spoke.”

Elixson stared at him. “Sir, the Current has gifted you with an endurance well beyond normal folk, that you can go a day and more without food, walk through sleet and never notice, or ride for days without rest. Your wife is a hearty young woman, but compared to you anyone is fragile. You must learn to account for that. She has to eat four times a day, at least two of them full meals. She must sleep at night and wear warm clothes when she is exposed to the weather.”

Dazza spoke in a cold voice. “Governor Ironbridge, exposure and starvation are considered methods of coercion.”

“You don’t call what you people are doing coercion?” Jax looked around at them. “Sending Argali a corporation I could never match even if I worked at it my entire life? Playing with the future and well-being of the Northern Lands as if it were nothing? Attacking my camp during a ‘truce.’ Threatening us with your soldiers and your weapons and your ‘assimilation?’ How many times does Kamoj have to tell you she wants you to go away?”

Dazza spoke softly. “Why, Kamoj? If you’re sick or in pain, I can help.”

“We don’t want your help,” Jax said.

Kamoj thought of the knife in Jax’s boot and said nothing. She heard the rustle of camp outside, the snort of a greenglass, the shuffle of boots. Her mind was beginning to dissociate from her body.

Dazza pulled off her belt. Or not the entire belt, but part of it. When she ran her hand along the strip, it changed itself, turning into a flexible tube.

The colonel spoke to Jax. “This fires a needle that contains a drug. It won’t harm you, but it will put you to sleep almost immediately.”

Several Ironbridge stagman started toward her. As soon as they moved, Ashman motioned to Vyrl’s bodyguards and they stepped forward.

Jax shook his head at his stagmen, a sign for them to back off. Relief flickered on their faces. Kamoj knew they would have defended Jax if he hadn’t stopped them, but against the Jagernauts it was obvious they had no chance.

Jax spoke bitterly to Dazza. “So you lied about carrying no weapons. Why is it that I have no surprise at this deception?”

Kamoj could see how vulnerable he felt. He hid it well, but he more than anyone understood the capabilities of the Ascendant’s minions. No one seemed to realize the danger in making him feel trapped. They had left him no outs, and she was the one who would pay for it.

As Dazza raised her sleep tube, Kamoj felt Jax reach into his boot. Kamoj tried to roll away, but he held her in place. Then he slapped the knife against her throat.

“The only way you will have her,” he told Vyrl, “is as a corpse.”

Everyone in the tent froze. After a moment, Dazza spoke carefully. “Governor Ironbridge, don’t hurt her.”

“Kamoj, sit up,” Jax said.

She dragged herself up to her knees, and Jax pulled her between his legs, so they were both kneeling, she with her back against his front. The flat of his blade chilled her neck. When he shifted position, the knife’s razor edge nicked her skin. Vyrl stood at the foot of the bed, watching them, one fist clenched at his side. His bodyguards had their hands on their weapons, and Kamoj had no doubt they would protect Vyrl even if it meant her death.

Major Tulain spoke. “What do you want us to do, Governor Ironbridge?”

Kamoj wondered if even Jax knew the answer. What could he do except kill her? Then Vyrl would kill him. Then what?

Jax said, “Where is Baldarin?”

“Who is Baldarin?” Tulain asked.

“The archer who shot Prince Havyrl,” Jax said. “Your people were holding him in Argali pending the decision on whether or not to ‘press charges.’ Where is he now?”

“He’s still in Argali,” Tulain said.

“What about the fires?” Jax asked. “Didn’t you evacuate him with everyone else?”

“Argali didn’t burn,” Tulain said. “Only one outlying village was lost. We put out the other fires.”

Jax made an incredulous sound. “It is truly amazing, what you people do. Stop fire in its tracks, fly above the sky, heal mortal wounds in a day. We are nothing to you, just a bunch of barbaric ex-slaves.” His voice hardened. “I want to know what this means, ‘pressing charges.’”

“It is part of our laws,” Tulain said. “If Prince Havyrl chooses to press charges against the archer, the man will go on trial for attempted murder.”

Kamoj felt Jax turn toward Vyrl. “Are you going to ‘press charges’?” he asked.

“No,” Vyrl said. “He can go free. Whatever you want.”

“Good.” Jax turned back to the Arbiter. “I, however, would like to press charges.”

“Against who?” Tulain asked. “And for what?”

“Against Prince Havyrl Torcellei Valdoria,” Jax said. “For the attempted murder of my stagmen last night, when he attacked this camp during a truce. I also want to file suit with your civil authorities to protest the way Prince Havyrl and your ISC have treated my people.” He pointed at the Inquiry table with his free hand. “I want the evidence from this Inquiry made part of the record.”

“Your testimony is being recorded,” Tulain said. “So your charges are in the official record.”

“That’s not good enough.” Jax motioned at Vyrl. “Your army would do anything to protect him. Without some guarantee, my comments will never make it past this tent.”

General Ashman had his full concentration focused on Jax now. No clue of his thoughts showed on his face, but Kamoj suspected that even if no one else had yet realized it, the general was beginning to understand how much they had underestimated Jax.

“You have our guarantee of due process,” Tulain said.

Jax snorted. “As I had your guarantee of a truce last night?”

“We’re making full recordings of this Inquiry,” she said. “We will provide you with copies of those recordings and a web system to verify them, as well as equipment to contact whomever you wish to represent your case.”

“Not good enough,” Jax said. “I have no way to stop you from setting your machines to break after you have what you want.”

“What is it you would have us do?” Tulain asked.

“When your people returned my stagman to Ironbridge,” Jax said, “a delegation came with him. Including a man called Drake Brockson. He told me he was part of an organization that represented worlds like ours in the Imperial Assembly, to ensure we weren’t mistreated. I want you to contact him. I want his representation.”

“Professor Brockson is an anthropologist, not a legal counsel,” Tulain answered. “He can’t represent you.”

“Then he will find me someone who can,” Jax said.

Ashman spoke. “No.”

Vyrl swung around to him. “What?”

“I will not submit to threats,” the general said.

“Damn it, Ashman,” Vyrl said. “He’s not bluffing. He’ll kill Kamoj.”

“The answer is no.”

Jax moved the knife on Kamoj’s neck, “You have fifteen seconds to contact Brockson.”

Tulain stared at him. “You would kill your own wife? The woman you’ve fought this entire conflict for? Doesn’t that defeat your purpose?”

“Nine seconds,” Jax said.

“If she dies,” Tulain said, “you have nothing.”

“Seven seconds.”

“Are you willing to give up everything,” Tulain asked. “Your realms, title, freedom, possibly your life?”

Jax turned the blade so its edge lay against a large vein in Kamoj’s neck. “One second.”

“Ashman, do what he wants!” Vyrl’s voice snapped out. “Now.”

Jax paused, his knife against Kamoj’s skin. Ashman turned to Vyrl, the two of them locked in a silent battle Kamoj knew had nothing to do with her or her world.

Still watching Vyrl, Ashman spoke in a harsh voice. “Major Tulain, contact Brockson. Have the transcript of this Inquiry transmitted to him.”

Kamoj almost sagged with relief. Jax turned the knife, setting the flat of the blade against her neck.

Tulain contacted the Ascendant using her aide’s book-box. Watching her “upload files,” Kamoj felt a dazed detachment, as if she were an observer in a distant place. The knife made a bar of ice against her throat. No one spoke. No one moved.

The blow came from behind. Kamoj glimpsed a Jagernaut, not one of Vyrl’s bodyguards but someone else. Jax must have caught sight of his approach, because he was already jerking away his arm when the Jagernaut grabbed for it. The Jagernaut caught cloth instead, ripping Jax’s sleeve. He had also fired a sleep weapon, but either it missed Jax or had no effect; he kept moving, yanking Kamoj back on the bed until they faced the Jagernaut as well as everyone else.

“Liar,” Jax spat at Ashman, stabbing his knife down at Kamoj’s heart—

“NO!” Vyrl shouted. In the same instant, Tulain said, “Wait! Brockson is transmitting his reply.”

Jax froze, the tip of his knife touching Kamoj’s bodice. “And?”

A man’s voice came into the air. “Governor Ironbridge, this is Drake Brockson. I will take your case and find you legal representation.”

Watching General Ashman, Kamoj saw his sour look. Apparently Brockson’s word was good.

Jax must have seen it as well. Softly he said, “Good.” Then he let go of the knife.

The blade fell down Kamoj’s front and onto the bed. Holding her around the waist, Jax sagged forward, letting his head rest against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If it makes a difference, I couldn’t have done it. I meant what I said, but I misjudged. I could never have killed you.”

“Saints almighty,” someone muttered.

Jax held onto her, rocking back and forth, a ritualistic soothing motion Kamoj knew well, having often lapsed into it herself. With the same inbred instincts, she stroked his arms where he held her around the waist, offering comfort.

Dazza watched them with a strange expression, as if what she saw was breaking her heart. She raised her sleep tube and the expected hiss came from it. Although Jax stiffened, he made no further protest. When Kamoj felt his weight slump against her, she knew he had passed out.

Ashman turned to Vyrl. “You said he wasn’t bluffing.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Vyrl said. “I couldn’t take chances.”

“Damn you, Valdoria,” Ashman said. “With Brockson on the case we can’t keep it quiet. Do you have any idea of the diplomatic and political repercussions this mess will create?”

“What would you have me do?” Vyrl asked. “You said it yourself. I’ve been in a telepathic catatonia. I couldn’t be sure if he would kill her.”

Kamoj extracted herself from Jax’s embrace and shifted her position so she was behind him. Sitting cross-legged, she laid his head on her knees, just as he had earlier done with hers. When she began to massage his temples, everyone stopped talking and stared at them.

Vyrl looked as if his heart were being torn in two. Walking forward, he spoke softly. “Kamoj, you don’t have to do that.”

She cradled Jax’s head, too dazed to answer.

As Vyrl knelt on the bed, Dazza warned, “Leave her be.”

Vyrl shook his head. “She needs—”

“Valdoria, don’t be an idiot,” Ashman said. “Touch that girl again without her consent and I’ll throw you in the brig myself.”

Vyrl looked up at Ashman as if he wanted to punch him. But he stood up, moving away from Kamoj. Ashman’s words echoed in her mind. Consent. Consent. Consent.

“Governor Argali needs to eat,” Elixson said.

“Can you get her something?” Dazza asked. “Plain broth, if possible.”

Elixson spoke to a stagman and the soldier left, the entrance flaps swinging back and forth after he was gone, back and forth, back and forth…

Kamoj swayed. Her arm was growing numb from supporting Jax’s head. She shifted his weight, easing him to a new place.

“Gods,” Dazza whispered.

Puzzled by the shock in the colonel’s voice, Kamoj tried to focus on her. Dazza was staring at her arm. Looking down, Kamoj saw that when she had moved Jax’s head, it had dragged the sleeve of her dress up past her elbow. There, in humiliating detail for everyone to see, was her shame, the bruises and welts that covered her skin.

Vyrl spoke to Ashman. “Now do you believe me?”

Dazza sat on the bed and spoke gently to Kamoj. “Governor Argali, I won’t touch either you or Governor Ironbridge without your permission. But if you will allow it, I can treat those wounds.” She swallowed. “And any others you have.”

“Will it hurt?” Kamoj asked.

“I can anesthetize the area. What I did with your foot the other night. You won’t feel anything.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” In a healer’s gentle voice, she added, “I’ll make the hurting stop.”

“Yes,” Kamoj said. “Do that.”

“We need to separate you from Governor Ironbridge. It that all right?”

“No.”

“We won’t hurt him.”

“What will you do with him?”

“He’s just sleeping,” Dazza said. “We’ll leave him here with his healer. He’ll wake soon enough.”

Kamoj looked up at Vyrl. “You told me that you would protect me last night if I asked for your help. I asked. This is what happened. If I ask again, will I get hurt again?”

Vyrl sat on the bed, ignoring Dazza’s warning look. “If I could take back last night—” His voice caught. “I can’t change what happened. But I can promise it won’t happen again.”

Moving with care, Kamoj set Jax’s head on the bed. She slid closer to Vyrl and nausea swept over her. She waited for it to subside, then moved another hand span. The nausea surged. She was dimly aware of everyone watching her, but she didn’t care. Right now all she could deal with was this journey of hand spans.

After an eon of starts and stops, fighting nausea, she came close to Vyrl. She looked up into his face. “I want to go with you.” Reaching her arms out to him, she said, “Take me home.”

Vyrl folded her into his embrace. No one spoke. No one told him to let her go. No one made a sound. His scent soaked into her, from his hair, his body, and his clothes. Tears ran down her face, but she didn’t make a sound as she cried.