Chapter Nineteen

The next morning they emerged, having dined on ship’s rations and an ancient bottle of wine covered in raffia.

“One of Torred’s,” Jean-Paul boasted. “I had to twist my father’s arm to get it. There are only ten dozen left, but I convinced him this was a special occasion.” He shared a mind picture of a stocky, dark-haired man with a merry grin. “He was our friend.”

Kayelle suspected, she’d just shared an epitaph to a very special man. “I want to meet your family,” she reminded him.

“Soon. We have work to do here first.”

The Tetrarch’s aide was waiting. “Welcome, sir,” he said, stepping forward as Jean-Paul reached the bottom of the ramp.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Jean-Paul made no mention of the cause for the delay, but the aide’s eyes strayed to Kayelle radiating happiness like a beacon. She felt it in his mind and his assumptions raised the color in her cheeks even more.

“The Tetrarch would be pleased to discuss your return.”

Jean-Paul smiled. “I expect he would.”

“Is it convenient now?” The aide had difficulty keeping his eyes from straying to Kayelle, who was making faces to mock his seriousness, a petty revenge, but still effective.

“Of course. We’ll come with you immediately.” Jean-Paul ignored Kayelle’s behavior and matched the aide’s serious mien.

The Adept turned and fled, almost running in his desire to be away. Jean-Paul followed more leisurely, his hand in Kayelle’s to moderate her pace.

“Behave yourself.” His admonition was indulgent. “You’ve made your point.”

She poked her tongue at him. “He has a gutter mind.”

Jean-Paul smiled at her. “I saw nothing in his mind we hadn’t done. I thought his imagination somewhat limited.” He shared some mind pictures to make Kayelle’s breathing difficult.

“Don’t stop now,” she warned. “It will take us twenty minutes to reach the Square.”

* * * *

The Tetrarch greeted them at the head of the stairs leading up from the Square, a beaming smile banishing any semblance of formality. “You won me my wager,” he said, extending his hand to Jean-Paul. “I told the others you’d be back.”

“Thank you for your confidence,” Jean-Paul smiled too as they shook hands.

“I suspect Kayelle has already made you welcome,” the Tetrarch inclined his head toward her. “Her expression suggests you have reciprocated.” Her great-grandfather looked young. “Marriage would allow us to confer Adept status sooner and ease your work here.”

Kayelle’s face felt aflame and she closed her mind in embarrassment, trying to hide her surge of joy lest it compromise Jean-Paul’s response.

“I thing that’s a question for Kayelle,” Jean-Paul surrounded her with warmth and reassurance. “She may not be ready for so large a step.”

“Oh, you still think her too young.” The Tetrarch enjoyed the care Jean-Paul displayed. He grinned broadly, almost daring Kayelle to comment.

“She is young,” Jean-Paul had joined the fun, but his warmth cushioned Kayelle.

“If all you two can do is indulge yourself in juvenile repartee, I’ll go and discuss the wedding plans with my mother. She, at least, will be sensible.”

“You think it’s a good idea, then.” The Tetrarch tried to look solemn.

“I’ve been waiting for him to suggest it, but I know how slow older men think and thought I’d have to be patient for a while longer.” There was an element of truth in Kayelle’s words and she let them feel it.

She found it odd how right it felt. She had no doubts. She had to be Jean-Paul’s wife. No other state was possible. Her first reaction had been for him, lest he be embarrassed, but this had hardened instantly into certainty. No other decision she would ever make would be this right.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I agree entirely.”

Kayelle didn’t know how he kept this private. It contradicted everything she knew about telepathy. Another proof Jean-Paul stood outside everything she’d ever known. She stepped close and gave him a hug hard enough to hurt her muscles.

“I’m going now,” she said. “If you hear my mother scream, ignore it.”

“She’s guessed most of it and is hoping for the rest.” Jean-Paul smiled at her.

“Don’t take away all my surprises,” she warned him as she turned to leave.

“I think you’ll find one or two more along the way.”

His thought was pure mischief and it turned her back to him. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s more a promise. Now, go before the Tetrarch gets too suspicious.”

He was right. Her great-grandfather frowned, as if trying to catch a whisper on the edge of hearing.

“A kiss for the bride-to-be Great-grandfather?” she extemporized, anything to divert him.

“Of course, my child. I thought you’d forgotten me.”

She still sensed his disquiet. “My mind’s jumping this way and that, but I would never forget you,” she said. “Even if I can’t hold one thought in my head for even a second before another pushes it out.” It might suffice.

“I can tell you’re excited,” he said. “That’s all.”

“Bye, Great-grandfather.” She ran to the top of the stairs, turned, and waved before skipping down them like a girl, skirts flying indecorously.

* * * *

Her mother met her at the door, arms open wide, eyes bright with tears of joy. “I know,” she said. “I could feel your happiness from here. How much time do we have?”

Kayelle hugged her. “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it. As soon as possible, I think.”

“The Tetrarch suggests ten days will give everyone time to get here.” Jean-Paul used their private mode of communication.

“Ten days,” she passed it on to her mother.

“Ten days,” her mother’s voice rose. “Impossible. Tell that old fool it will be three weeks at a minimum. My daughter will be married properly.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Jean-Paul laughed in her mind. “Don’t worry, I’ll be polite.”

A small part of Kayelle’s mind quailed at this casual demonstration of Jean-Paul’s power. He maintained a private conversation at a distance, scanning her mind at the same time as he spoke with the Tetrarch. It took the special bond with her mother to communicate emotions over the same distance and only the Tetrarchs could send clear thoughts further.

“You have the ability to do everything I can.” Jean-Paul surrounded her. “It might take a little time, but it will happen. Your mother’s worried. Enjoy your time with her. Everything will work out. You trusted me before. Do the same now.” Then he left her mind.

He was right. She smiled at her mother. “Sorry, I was wool gathering. You were saying….”

A shake of her mother’s head consigned her odd behavior to the idiosyncrasies of a bride-to-be and she continued her list of essential tasks before the wedding.

An hour later, they reached the guest list.

“How many of his family?” Her mother’s brow creased.

“Seven—mother, father, sister, brother, sister-in-law, nephew and his wife,” Jean-Paul had the answer ready for her.

Kayelle passed it on.

“So few,” her mother gnawed her lower lip. “I can’t cut ours down below two hundred without offending.”

Jean-Paul’s laughter echoed in Kayelle’s mind. “Tell her not to worry. My lot can cope with twice that number.”

“I need you,” she sent deliberately, reinforcing it with every fiber of her body.

“Coming.”

* * * *

Jean-Paul lay on his back, Kayelle half across him, her limbs entwined with his. Her head rested on his chest. She’d fallen to sleep as simply as a child, almost in mid thought. Her parents had insisted he stay with them and Kayelle’s bedchamber was more comfortable than the ship. Fortunately, the sexual mores here were more relaxed for the Adepts and neither parent thought it strange he should sleep with their daughter. It saved a lot of creeping around in the dark.

He grinned at the thought of someone opposing Kayelle’s desires. They’d raised her in privilege, the beloved daughter of a wealthy family with a high proportion of Adepts. She didn’t accept restrictions meekly, a characteristic he’d used to combat the epidemic. She’d steamrollered opposition without offending, a rare talent, although being so startlingly beautiful gave her some advantage.

His mother, Dael, Karrel’s wife, Gabrielle, and Rachael, Jack’s wife, were all vibrant beauties. They turned heads everywhere, and even Anneke, his sister, compared favorably. Yet, Kayelle stood alone in a way not explicable by piecemeal analysis, although each of the others transcended minor blemishes and he saw none in her. Some indefinable element struck a chord in his soul matched by no other woman whenever she appeared.

“It must be love.” Peter was there. “I feel the same way about your mother.”

Jean-Paul checked that Kayelle still slept before he responded. “I’m glad you didn’t arrive earlier.”

“Bit of a handful, is she?” Peter’s humor sometimes reverted to his soldiering days. “I always check…and so do the rest.” He’d sensed the sudden fear in Jean-Paul’s mind. “You’ve spent too much time away from us.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re right. Kayelle will need help in areas beyond me.”

Peter laughed in his mind. “The girls are itching to interfere before you create too many assumptions of male superiority in her mind.”

Jean-Paul stifled the urge to follow suit. Laughter would wake Kayelle and she wasn’t ready for Peter yet. “I’ll bet Anneke called them ‘false assumptions.’ She never gives us an inch. We need to marry her off. Give her a target that’s closer so the rest of us can get some peace.”

“You’ve been listening to Jack.”

Jean-Paul’s nephew might be the president of Feodar’s World, but Anneke had met Rachael long before he did and was her constant ally.

“He’s right.”

“Can you untangle yourself without waking her? It’s easier to talk face-to-face.”

Jean-Paul began the task one small movement at the time, pausing for long minutes when he sensed Kayelle’s disturbance. She murmured fretfully at one point and he froze. Peter said nothing, waiting with the ingrained patience of a veteran soldier, but Jean-Paul felt his presence and tried to hurry.

“Take your time, son.” Peter missed nothing.

Once he was free, Jean-Paul rose from the bed and stood over Kayelle, scanning her mind for any sense of awareness. She slept on, her mind wrapped in a dream of wedded bliss.

“Come on,” Peter intervened. “That’s cheating.”

Jean-Paul stifled a laugh and stepped into Limbo, just brushing a vase of flowers decorating the dressing table.

“Come on,” Peter repeated. “Dael’s waiting.” He turned and summoned the portal to the beach camp.

They arrived there instantly, making Jean-Paul remember his first experience of Limbo when every portal seemed fixed in space and he’d had to walk from one to the next. This was much easier.

They stepped through and found Dael, Gabrielle, and Anneke waiting impatiently. They smothered Jean-Paul as they all tried to hug him at once.

“I think Kayelle would like him to survive until the wedding.” Karrel was there too, wearing a beaming smile.

“She’s gorgeous.” Rachael added her two-cents-worth.

“You’ve been peeking,” Jean-Paul accused, accepting Rachael’s embrace and Jack’s handshake simultaneously.

“If we waited for you, we’d all be old and gray,” Anneke counter-attacked, conveniently ignoring their immortality.

“How long do we have?” Dael was the practical one.

“She was sleeping soundly when I left,” Jean-Paul said. “A couple of hours at least. I can always plead a call of nature. They still have outside privies.”

“Good. Time to discuss how to handle this wedding. I’m looking forward to it. I like their fashions. We can show off in style.” The other women nodded their agreement while the males shook their heads in despair. “You must wear the kilt of this planet. We can make one in Viridian Green as a compliment to our hosts.” Dael nodded her satisfaction. Who’s going to attend you…Karrel or Jack?”

“Why not both?” Jean-Paul threw up his hands in mock despair.

“A great idea,” Gabrielle joined in. “It will give Kayelle a chance to reward two of her friends and I can get to dance with as many Viridians as I like.” She blew a raspberry at Karrel’s resigned shrug.

“Après moi, sister-in-law,” Anneke threatened. “I take priority, both in seniority and need. You’ve got your man.”

Jean-Paul felt their pleasure underpinning the banter. Kayelle would love this boisterous group. She’d fit as perfectly as if she’d been born for the role. He relaxed, his final worry dissipated by the high spirits around him.

“One of Torred’s bottles,” Jack suggested, looking around for Peter. He was already ready to celebrate when away from Feodar’s World, freed of the restraints he imposed on himself as president.

“We’ll keep them for when Kayelle can join us,” Peter decided, surprising Jean-Paul because his father had translocated to the top of the sand hill separating the beach camp from the sea. “There are other bottles. The Settlement believes Torred’s methods worth preserving, although they never quite replicate his touch.”

Peter translocated back to join the group in the camp. He smiled and Jean-Paul saw their friend in his mind. The discovery of the Viridian imprinting techniques had deepened Peter’s regret he’d not insisted on Torred and Samara becoming telepathic.

“It would have been too late for them,” he said. It felt strange offering comfort to his father. Peter was the rock anchoring them all.

“I know.” Peter’s pride in him was palpable. “Thank you. There’s a lot of your mother in you.”

“Drink up,” Jack had taken Peter at his word and passed out full glasses of excellent red wine. “A few more of these and my wife is likely to dance on the table.”

A picture formed in Jean-Paul’s mind of Rachael in a Federation uniform dancing abandonedly to the clapping assembled drinkers outside the inn on Feodar’s World. It was a memory straight from Jack’s mind and he shared it deliberately to tease his wife. Anneke topped him with a picture from his past he’d rather forget, his first time drunk, and the others laughed. There was no rancor, Jack wreathed the image with his love for his wife and Anneke’s was a fond rebuttal.

Peter and Dael had wandered away from the group, walking hand in hand to the top of the sand dune between the camp and the sea, a very special place for them. Here, their love had blossomed and their children conceived, Dael, in particular, spent every spare moment walking remembered paths, remembering special moments, and Peter indulged her need. They always wandered off like this, their thoughts private from the family.

Jean-Paul felt sorry when Peter returned and indicated it was time for him to return, his father had a mental clock that was rarely wrong. Hugs all around and he shifted into Limbo like stepping through a door. He didn’t pause, just re-ordered the portals in his mind so the one into Kayelle’s bedchamber was opposite and stepped through.

The water underfoot surprised him, the vase of flowers lay on its side, its contents on the floor, but the empty bed was of more concern. He extended his perception, seeking Kayelle. He’d have to explain his absence and didn’t want to have his lie revealed if she was where he said he’d been.

Nothing.

Puzzled, but not particularly concerned—she was probably searching for him—he probed further.

Still nothing.

Fear came, an irrational terror clawing at his mind, distracting him as he reached further and further with his mind. Still nothing.

“Peter!”

“Yes,” his father responded.

“Kayelle’s gone.” He took the shortcut of sharing what he knew directly.

“All come!” Peter’s command carried the authority of years of soldiering and the family obeyed instantly, not pausing to question. Jean-Paul felt them around him as he stepped back into Limbo.

“Anneke, check this world thoroughly. The rest of you start scanning individual portals. If she’s not on Viridia, the only other place she could go is here and then through any portal.”

Jean-Paul quailed at his father’s analysis of the situation, but he didn’t argue. Peter was the supreme realist and his logic was irrefutable. He took his place in Limbo and called up the first portal.

* * * *

Eight hours later, he understood how impossible the task was.

Anneke finished her scan of Viridia, delving into individual memories to ensure she’d missed nothing, and had returned empty-handed, taking her place in Limbo and scanning through portals. They couldn’t assume Kayelle would be close to the portal because they reverted to position last viewed by an individual. Put a different person in front of it and the location changed. They had to scan each world completely and check enough individual memories to be sure. At the present rate, it would take the eight of them nearly two years to check all the portals. He’d made the situation worse by rearranging the portals on his return, they had no way of knowing how they’d been arranged when Kayelle entered Limbo.

If indeed, that’s what she’d done.

“Stop.” Peter halted their efforts. “We’ve got to work smarter than this. Suggestions anybody?”

“If Kayelle were one of us, she’d call you,” Gabrielle said. “You’ve always responded, just as you did to Jean-Paul. Can we use this?”

Jean-Paul felt warmth surround Gabrielle. “Good thought,” his father said aloud. “Except she’d call Jean-Paul, not me, and my reading of her character suggests she’d not do it without cause. We’d have to be ready to move instantly. Can we take that risk?”

“What happens if he’s asleep when she calls?” Rachael was ever the practical one. She was the most recent to develop telepathy and viewed it with some suspicion.

“That’s another risk. We might not sense her call. Jean-Paul set up a private channel with her because of the other telepaths on Viridia. She’d probably use it.” Peter wasn’t one to sugarcoat the pill.

“Do we have a choice?” Karrel’s pragmatism drew a wry smile from Anneke. She’d always worshiped her elder brother, the one man in whom she found no fault, other than Peter.

“No. We’ll continue checking the portals in twelve-hour shifts. I think Anneke, Rachael, and me on the first shift, with Dael, Gabrielle, and Karrel doing the other. If she’s reached a civilized area, she’ll show up on some database somewhere and Jack’s position on Feodar’s World gives him access to most of them. He needs to be there and Jean-Paul has to settle the Viridians and listen for Kayelle’s call. I’ll leave the portal open so he’ll hear where ever he is.”

“What do I tell her parents and the Tetrarch?” Jean-Paul felt defeated. The last eight hours had drained him more than any other period in his life. He’d crashed from the euphoria of awakened love to the reality he might never hold Kayelle in his arms again.

“Stick to the truth. You went to the privy, came back to find her gone, and have been searching for her ever since. We’ll shift the portal close to the water and you can get your clothes dirty before you reach the house. Say you thought you sensed her in that direction and became lost looking for her. It’s wild country. Let them organize searches. I’ll link the portal to you and it will follow you around.” Peter’s decisive manner lifted Jean-Paul, giving him the will to proceed.

Knowing it was his fault made it worse. Had he not taken Kayelle into Limbo in the beginning, she could never have used the portal now. Peter thought Limbo was a mind concept rather than a reality and access to it required the mind’s acceptance of its existence. Without her first visit, Kayelle couldn’t imagine its existence and this mess couldn’t happen. Now she could be dead and he’d never know….

“Stop this nonsense now.” Peter’s command sounded harsh, a rare display of anger. “She’s alive. We’d know instantly if she wasn’t. Our task if to find her and bring her home.”

Jean-Paul recoiled. His father was right. He wouldn’t help Kayelle by futile hand wringing, or self-flagellation. She needed focused action and Peter showed the way. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

“Good.” Peter turned away to the portal he searched.

* * * *

Kayelle woke to the crash of the falling vase. Disorientated, she leaped to her feet to see a shimmering blue veil across her door, with the sense of Jean-Paul just beyond it strong in her mind. Following him was automatic and she found herself in a place hauntingly familiar. Limbo, the name came into her mind from nowhere, a place of waiting for a decision. She was alone; her sense of Jean-Paul centered on another veiled opening ten paces to her left. She hurried to it, extending her awareness.

Beyond, was a strange scene, groups of people carried past the opening by a moving pavement, emerging from a tunnel on one side and disappearing into another tunnel on the other.

Jean-Paul must be ahead of her.

Heartened by the thought, she stepped through, only to stagger drunkenly as her body fought to match the movement of the pavement and cannoned into an individual she hadn’t noticed.

“Steady, Lass. Where’d you come from? I thought I was the last off the shuttle.” The years she felt in his mind hid behind a merry grin. “You can’t go running around like that. They’ll think you a Pleasure Girl out of her licensed area. Wear my cloak till we get inside the Dome.” He shifted the garment from his shoulders to hers. “Pull the hood up. It’s always cold in the Admission Hall.” He fussed with the soft cord at its neck closure, tying an ornate bow.

Kayelle, who’d just realized she wore only a revealing nightgown donned specially for Jean-Paul, was glad of his kindness, for the shimmering blue veil had disappeared, leaving her no way back. Her sense of Jean-Paul had disappeared.

“Thank you,” she said. “I came in a hurry and forgot to dress properly.”

“Lass, I’m not complaining. I haven’t seen anything as good as you in more years than I care to remember, but I’m here to gamble at Xanadu Pleasure Dome. What’s your pleasure?”

Kayelle had followed his thoughts as much as his words and the germ of an idea in his mind answered all her immediate problems. She had to foster it.

“I’m following a friend,” she said. “We got separated and I don’t know where she’ll be.” Giving Jean-Paul a sex change removed an obstacle to his idea.

“Let her find you instead.” He’d taken the bait. “I’m heading for the high stakes table. The game is video cast throughout the Dome. We’ll doll you up and you can stand behind me to distract the other players.”

Kayelle nodded thoughtfully, entranced by the things hidden in her companion’s mind. Viridia seemed far away.

Dakar had been a gambler for one hundred and twenty standard years, ever since he’d escaped the constraints of his parent’s home and passed through a Federation portal. He wasn’t truly telepathic, just uniquely sensitive to others, a skill honed by thousands of hours at the card table. This game was his last. Once it ended, he was going home, back to the world he’d abandoned as a sixteen-year-old rebel, back to his Elite parents on Feodar’s World. There’d been great changes at home.

They’d deposed the Pontiff, rebuffed the Federation, and started modernizing under an Elite president. He wanted to become part of it, but not as a returning prodigal. He wanted enough wealth to return in triumph, his pride intact.

Kayelle smiled. Some things never change. Dakar’s story, the details altered only by their isolation, had played out a thousand times on Viridia, prodigal sons seeking their fortunes in other tetrarchies and not returning until they could return proudly.

“Well?” He reminded her she hadn’t answered.

“What do you want in return?” She might be from an isolated planet, unknown to the rest, but she knew men.

They’d reached the Admission Hall, a vast space under a high domed ceiling teeming with people, and his delighted laughter turned heads. “Nothing like you’re thinking.” He patted her on the shoulder. “High Rollers like me are provided with Pleasure girls as part of the service. They’re professionals, the highest class. I’ve grown used to the best. Your role is to help me win, nothing more.”

Kayelle’s face flamed with his casual dismissal, more so because she followed his memories of past services and thought them impossible.

“You, on the other hand, are free to dabble where you will. Just be there when I’m playing.” His thoughts on the activities she might undertake did nothing to reduce her color. “I’ll pay for your clothes, lodging, meals, and anything else within reason, so don’t hold back.” She felt his offer was genuine.

“Do we shake hands?” This was the Viridian custom for closing deals.

He gave another delighted peal of laughter. “I think sealed with a kiss is more appropriate.”

She didn’t know what to expect when he kissed her. She felt the mischief in his mind, and the avuncular peck on her lips caught her off guard.

“Stop worrying,” he said. “This is a business deal. Having you stand behind me is my insurance.” She couldn’t probe a dark area in his mind, a fear of something outside her understanding.

They joined one of the queues and shuffled forward with the rest until it was their turn at the turnstile.

“Place your right hand palm down on the screen,” the attendant instructed, indicating a flat sheet of tinted glass with the outline of a hand.

Puzzled, Kayelle placed her hand within the outline and had to force herself not to flinch at the wave of curious vibration she felt.

“Name?” The attendant sounded bored.

“Kayelle.”

“Planet?”

“Viridia.” She felt his interest spike and he glanced down at a screen hidden from her to see confirmation.

“Non-member entity,” he read. “You are our first visitor. This gives you guest status.” He turned aside and took a token from a gold box. “Present this token and validate it with your palm print. All charges will be met.” She felt his envy.

The turnstile buzzed, admitting her.

The attendant recognized Dakar and greeted him familiarly, wishing him luck in the game, and the gambler joined her, indicating a shorter queue on the far side of the hall.

“We’ll take the surface beltway. The underground shuttles make me claustrophobic”

Kayelle let him escort her, more interested in his thoughts than his words.

Guest status was a recognized commercial ploy, usually granted to the first five visitors from a new source, whether it was a world like Viridia, or an emerging society on some backward planet. Her palm print confirmed she didn’t exist in any database. They’d monitor her activities, gather information, and search for her world by backtracking her movements.

Kayelle smiled. She’d found nothing vaguely like the blue veiled doorways in his mind, although they seemed to have many similar properties to the portals to non-physical space providing instant travel through the galaxy. She suspected their search might be more frustrating than productive, but she left tracks now for Jean-Paul. He’d know all about databases and how to check them.

She felt good, her mind alert, taking leaps of intuition she would never have dared at home. No wonder Jean-Paul had such self-assurance. This was his environment, unimaginable even to the Tetrarchs. Before he’d given her a glimpse into his mind, this might have terrified her, now it fascinated her.

The surface beltway had four parallel belts at the entry. Each ran faster than the one before, so the final step onto the main belt was an easy one. Steadied by Dakar’s arm, she had no trouble. They emerged into the open through an air curtain, and the temperature rose appreciably under the reddish sun.

Other than this, it could have been the plains of Viridia, cropped close by the wandering herds, flatlands reaching to the horizon before them. Kayelle looked back at the receding dome of the Entrance Hall. Beyond it, she saw space ships, most a hundred-times-larger than Jean-Paul’s, landing and taking off in a continuous procession. She turned back in time to see the first spires of the Pleasure Dome pierce the horizon. Ten minutes later, she saw the upper curve of the burnished dome itself.

A last glance back showed how far they’d come and Kayelle felt a tiny quiver of fear. She’d committed herself. It was too late to turn back now.